Compliance
by Mal Masque
Summary: A Commissar of the Imperium of Man finds herself working as a diplomat for a rapidly expanding multiversal society headed by ponies. She won't bend the knee just yet, even if peace is on the horizon. Side-story to "Songs of the Spheres" by GMBlackjack, heavily recommended to read prior to this.
1. Chapter 1

"Bell, commence new entry in personal data-logs."

"_COMPLIANCE?"_

"By the compliance of Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov, of the Commissariat of the Astra Militarum, by the glory of the Imperium of Man and the will of the God Emperor of Mankind."

"_COMPLIANCE ACCEPTED, COMMENCE ORATION._"

"The battle on Hiveworld Karthag was a pyrrhic victory, even in the eyes of the Emperor. While the Xenos forces were purged from the system and all traces of their existence expunged from the planet itself, the staggering losses we faced were greater than imagined. Of the regiment of fifteen-thousand strong, only seven… including myself… were amongst the survivors. In spite of this, Karthag has been reclaimed by the Astra Militarum, and re-colonization efforts to establish a new Hive have already begun. And yet, the scars of the Tyranid invasion remain on the surface, as well as the mass graves of the fallen under my command. I have been recalled from my services with the Cadians, and have been ordered to return to speak with my fellow Lord Commissars, in regards to a recent development with the Astra Militarum's… growing association with the other-worldly visitors the Emperor so fervently dotes upon. Perhaps it will be a simple committee overview, consolidating our forces for another strike against the foes of the Imperium. For now, I will conclude this personal entry with a silent prayer to the Emperor, and wait for further instructions. End entry."

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

The halls of the _Penitent Oath_ were abuzz with activity. The flagship in the Imperial Navy had been in orbit over the semi-barren planet for some odd days now, joined by other ships under purview of the Adeptus Ministorum and the Adeptus Arbites to set up the new Hive-Cities for the world. Though it had come along for protective purposes, the proud ship of the Commissariat was there for more official business. A meeting between the Lords, the high elite of the Imperium's most honored taskmasters of the Guard. And yet, this was no pleasantry to congratulate the defeat of another Xenos threat. This was far more… volatile. In a private meeting room, Commissar Yamira Kalov had taken a stand before her fellow Commissars of the board, seven men in fine red and black raiments adorned in the finest golden tassels and medals for decades of service. Yet even these men, trained to bring forth obedience and stoicism in the Militarum, flinched under the duress of Yamira's words.

"Transference?!" She shouted, fingers digging into the sides of the metal podium. "I understand that the loss of the 947th was a grievous matter, but to transfer me to such, such, such…" Her gloved hands twitched to find the appropriate words. "Such a pandering political position is beyond my status! An insult, even!" The Commissars flinched a bit from their shadowy seats, but held firm before the screams of the relieved militant.

"Our word is final, Commissar Kalov." One of the Commissars said, a rigid man bearing many scars of battle on his face. "While yes, the overall conflict on Karthag was a success, with the visiting representatives and their outlook on the expenditure of forces, we will need to make this move in order to save face." The other to his side immediately elbowed him in the side. "Oh! No offense intended, of course." Yamira sighed, but kept her composure, despite the obviousness of the statement. At one point, Yamira Kalov had been a beautiful woman. Blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and skin as smooth as the acquilla pinned to her breast; she truly was a captivating woman. _Was_. Shame how an incendiary explosive detonating at point-blank to the left side can marr that beauty with burnt flesh, partial blindness, and a lacking cheek. The half-and-half appearance has both been a prime motivator for her to lead troops in the field of battle, and a detriment to her social life amongst other members of the Astra Militarum.

"None taken, Lord Commissar," Yamira said. "In regards to the face comment, not on my transference to this glorified meet-and-greet with a bunch of outsiders and Xenos sympathisers!" She slammed her gloved fist against the podium, causing the other Commissars to flinch once more.

"Yes, yes, we are well aware of your standing on our new allies," The Commissar said. "But it is as the High Lords dictate, and their word is that of the Emperor's himself." At the invocation, Yamira withered slightly and backed down. "You are subject to the Emperor's word as are we. That is our compliance on the matter. Is that clear, Lady Commissar?"

"I will-"

"_Is_ that clear, Lady Commissar?" The silence of the meeting room was only met with the hum of ancient machinery and the occasional creak of metal. The Commissar slowly stood from his seat, while the others rose in suit. "This tribunal is adjourned. You are to meet with the representative in the hangar in 0200 hours. You will be limited to two personal accompaniments during your time with the representative until authorized otherwise. Go forth, and show the might and wit of the Imperium to the Xenos from beyond. Emperor bless." The mantra was repeated amongst the Commissars, including Yamira herself, albeit under a ragged breath. The tribunal had already left by the time Yamira even registered the door had closed, leaving her isolated in the dark room. She wanted to remain there for an eternity, gripping onto the podium until either her fingers broke or she had to be pried off by menials to remove the bits of metal wrapped around her hands. But she couldn't.

She let off a ragged sigh and reluctantly released her grip on the podium, walking out the open door and into the gothic corridors of the _Penitent Oath_ with the grace and authority her uniform represented. Though slightly brighter than the tribunal room, the auspex lamps and corridor's glow only served to keep things easy to navigate, idle observations were pointless overall. Why gawk at the architecture when you could be serving your best for the Emperor and the Imperium? As Yamira walked, she passed by several of the Navy and Guard alike, all dropping to salute her with still faces and stony stances, while Menials hauling equipment, guns and armor alike in large metal boxes averted their gaze from the fierce flayed face. Were she more focused on her looks, she would have spared a sneer for those who looked upon her with disgust, but she was a prouder woman than that. She rounded a corner, and came face to face with a detachment of familiar faces in tanned duster uniforms. The one leading the bunch, a man with a scruff of a beard and a pair of matching scars running down his lips, gave a rather lackluster salute accompanied by a smug grin.

"Evening to ya, Commissar," the Guardsman said, voice hoarse from one too many lho-sticks during off-time. "What's with that look? Other than the bloody usual, eh?" A few of the younger Guardsmen gave wary looks to each other, some downright terrified at their CO's brazen insult to a Commissar. Yamira, however, sighed and shook her head.

"Still the same tactless slag as always, Captain?" she half-heartedly asked. The Guardsman just chuckled and knocked the side of his helmet with two fingers. Yamira, in return, grabbed him by the ear and yanked him down the corridor, causing the Captain to yelp under protest with every tug. The two ducked around a corner and Yamira released her grip, while the Guardsman rubbed his now very sore ear.

"Corr, you almost tore my ear off!" He whined.

"Daven Mangonel, if you read a battlefield as you do the room, I pray for the survivability of your troops." Yamira huffed. Captain Daven winced from the accusation, standing at proper attention with a concerned look, while Yamira deflated a bit with a sigh. "That was uncalled-for. I'm just a bit wound up from a meeting with the Tribunal."

"Wound up is an understatement, Lady Kalov." Captain Daven said. He patted the decorated shoulder of Yamira to rouse her a bit. "I've got some amasec to loosen things up, if you need." Yamira lightly batted the hand aside, while her undamaged lips curled into a faint smile.

"As much as I feel a need to drink myself into such a stupor to think you were a Living Saint, I unfortunately can't." Yamira said. "It's good to see you again, Daven. It seems the 805th remains in good hands in my absence." Daven eased up a bit and smirked as his hand fell back to his side.

"Doubting the persistence of Armageddon Steel again, eh, Commissar?" He nudged her elbow playfully with his own. "Are we going to have another row like on Caledon, eh? Eh?"

"You mean back when you were a Corporal, and I didn't look like I had partially lain in a Prometheum vat?" The two shared a rare laugh, despite the brief onlooking of a menial passing by. In these days, laughter was a rarity, often more valuable than the gold that decorated the Imperium's mightiest strongholds, and treasured as greatly as was possible. The two slowed their laughter as Yamira straightened herself up, taking on a more serious demeanor. "Actually, Captain, our meeting could not come at a more opportune time. Follow me." Daven followed the Lady Commissar without hesitation, despite his platoon still likely waiting in the halls. Someone else would take command while he accompanied Yamira. "I presume you are aware of the visitors aboard the _Penitent Oath_, correct?"

"Yes ma'am. Even right saw one just as they left that oddball ship of theirs."

"Eldar craftworlds have more subtlety with their ships than those Xenos." A few more Guardsmen stopped to salute the Lady Commissar and the Captain as they hurried along the corridors. "Planetary Defense Forces would blow those floating limbs from the sky were it not for this damned armistice." Daven tucked his hands into the pockets of his cloak, clicking his tongue a bit.

"They are strange, I'll give 'em that."

"And I have the _pleasure_ of acting as the Astra Militarum's representative for them, on behalf of the Commissariat." Daven almost stopped in his tracks at the practical sneer in her voice at the statement. "And you're coming with me as one of my wards."

"Excuse me?!" Daven had to hurry along to catch up with Yamira, bustling along. "Lady Commissar, with all due respect, but don't I get a few days' notice before getting assigned a transfer?"

"If this is policy, then I wasn't privy to it until now." Yamira grumbled under her breath.

"What was that, ma'am?"

"I said I'm invoking my authority as Lady Commissar and ordering you to do so." Daven sighed in defeat. A commissar's word was law in the Militarum, and to violate it would be under pain of death. And it wouldn't be a quick death, either. "Besides, for this, I'll be needing a close confidant while in an unknown territory, dealing with…" Daven could practically hear Yamira's teeth gritting. "Aliens, mutants, and heretics!" All eyes in the hall fell upon the two, a chill passing over as though the icy hand of death brushed across their collective shoulders. Daven quickly pressed his hands to Yamira's back and scooted her along the hall by the heels of her boots until he was sure they were out of sight of the accusatory eyes of the crew. They ended up in a supply closet, Daven shutting the door behind them and planting both his hands on Yamira's shoulders.

"Yamira! Emperor's sake, calm yourself!" Daven harshly whispered. "You're a Commissar of the Astra Militarum, you command the respect of thousands with a harsh glare and the wave of a gun. _Act like it._" Yamira blinked, albeit with one functioning eye, out of both confusion and surprise. It took her a moment to register that she had just been told to act her position by a _Guardsman_. Naturally, she resatablished her authority by furrowing her brow and putting on her trademark scowl.

"Captain Devon Mangonel, I am going to ask you this question and want you to think very hard about it," she said. "How much do you value both of your hands?" The hands came off, and Devon stepped back a good foot for safety. "Thank you for answering honestly, Captain." She softened her expression slightly. "And for the albeit brief pep talk."

Devon brightened up a bit. "So can I go back to my platoon and enjoy what little shore leave I've got left?"

"Absolutely not," Yamira brushed past Devon and opened up the door. The captain sighed and sagged his shoulders as he followed Yamira out of the room. "I'll need your level-headedness to get me through this new mission." A muttered 'yes ma'am' brought the spring back into the Commissar's steps as she and her ward walked down the hall. "Now, head off to the hangar and keep an eye out for the representatives. I need to go and retrieve Bell." As Yamira walked down the halls, Devon found himself a bit surprised at the notion of a secondary companion. Though he did end up asking himself...

"Who the bloody hell is Bell?"

* * *

"Keep up the pace, Captain," Yamira called, marching through the corridors once again. "Our hours are up, the time to meet the representatives is at hand." Devon huffed as he hurried behind the Lady Commissar, only to stop slightly when he had to glance at Bell rumbling behind her, feeling a bit queasy looking at the _thing_ that Yamira considered an aide. Devon may have kept his cool in the battlefield and before his troopers, but Servitors always gave him a bit of a lurch in his gut. The machine wearing the skin and organs of the deceased clattered behind Yamira like a puppy on six mechanical insectoid legs, hissing steam escaping the exhausts while those half-dead eyes blinked ghoulish lights. Bones and muscle intertwined with wires and metal made what was once a living person into a nightmarish simulacrum of a human. He hated the way it moved; the sound of a beating heart should not be accompanied by the pumping of machinery. Even the nickname Yamira gave the thing didn't help, calling it 'Bell' because of the way it rocked back and forth as it scrimped around.

"So any idea which blokes we're going to be meeting, Lady Commissar?" Devon asked.

"I am certain we will know them when we see them." Yamira said, grumbling under her breath. "I pray to the Emperor that they're at least easy on the eyes."

"They're Xenos, you might as well be asking for a golden tower on Holy Terra." Yamira held her response as she, the Captain, and her Servitor entered into the spacious hangar bay. Guardsmen and menials alike marched in rank and file, carting crates of weapons and explosives from Valkyrie Gunships and storage bays alike. Merely one aspect of the Imperium's war machine at work, a beautiful thing. Yamira frowned at the notion of that beauty being marred by the appearance of that hideous thing they called a vessel docked between the Thunderhawks. A crescent-shaped thing of shining metal that seemed more fitting of a Necron Dynasty amongst the Imperium's finest attack ships. Looking at the thing made Yamira's eye burn. Waiting just below were the representatives, an equally motley crew of rabble that the rest of the ship seemed to actively stay away from. A pair of large, purple-skinned humanoid creatures with messes of white hair spoke with an average-looking human who seemed to be currently smoking from a lho-stick of some kind. Yamira marched forward, clenching her gloved hands as tight as the leather would allow before any tears could form, with Devon and Bell bringing up the rear (reluctantly, in Devon's case).

"You are the representatives of Merodi Universalis, correct?" Yamira called. The two hulking purple things turned with proper military discipline, though one seemed to have flinched slightly upon seeing the Commissar's grisly visage. '_Good to see that these new Xenos can show fear._' She thought. '_It will make things much easier to work with._' The human was slower to react, only now giving Yamira a good look at the apparent liaison from another world. He seemed a civilian, with loose and baggy clothes not even the most desperate of Hive-Dwellers would wear. What further caught Yamira's eye was this man's apparent decor: two bandoliers draped across his chest, with small boxes in place of ammunition, while between his lips sat three lit lho-sticks. The apparent disinterest on his face was somewhat hidden by the black shades concealing his eyes.

"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah we are," the man said. It was odd: despite the apparent addiction to the substances that he dressed himself with, the visitor lacked the rasp most lho-stick users commonly have. A relief for Yamira, though the smell of smoke and whatever herbs were in the concoction was getting into her nostrils. "You the captain-lady that's coming with us back to CC, right?"

"That's _Lady Commissar_ to you," Devon interjected, stepping forth as his brow furrowed. One gesture from Yamira caused the captain to stay his hand.

"Yes, I am Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov," she said, tone neutral. "With me is Captain Devon Mangonel of the Armageddon 805th, and my personal Servitor, Bell." Devon gave only a slight nod, while Bell said nothing, save for the dead eyes of the thing flashing in recognition. The purple things clearly had some discomfort looking at Bell, Yamira could tell by the way they averted their eyes. She bowed slightly towards the smoking man. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador."

"Psssh, Ambassador?" he said. The way he smirked looked like Yamira had just told him a particularly funny joke, and she didn't know the punchline. "That's a good one. Like hell I'd want a job like that. Too much work. I'm Ms. Dust's bodyguard," He jabbed a thumb to his chest as he curled his sticks between his teeth, trailing smoke above his head. "Name's Cage Jameson, from Earth Stand." He stuck his thumb behind his back to the two purple ones. "These two are Amethysts, from the Gem Vein. The Ambassador is using the ladies' room on the Skiff, she'll be out in a second." Yamira took a slight step back, her good eye twitching a bit.

"You… aren't the Ambassador?"

"Nope." Cage shrugged and spat one of the burnt-out sticks onto the floor and stamped his boot down to smother it. "Just security." He lazily glanced between Yamira and the servitor as he produced another stick from his bandolier. "So, uh… you donate some of you to pretty up that hunk of junk?" He lit a match to the stick as he placed it up to his mouth. "Seems like a downgrade to me. Thing looks already plenty ugly." Yamira's blood went from still to boiling in seconds.

"How dare you!" she shouted. Her hand flew to the hilt of her sword, only stopped from lopping this daft idiot's head clean off his shoulders by Devon latching onto Yamira and yanking her back. The two Amethysts also yanked Cage back, glaring at him for his apparent apathy.

"What? It's a legit question," Cage innocently said. "Not my fault these guys don't have a sense of humor." All that got him was a bop on the head from one of the Amethysts. Yamira finally broke off from Devon's grasp and let go of her sword, though her anger still remained. Any chance at further problems was halted when the sound of running came from the lowered platform of the Skiff. Yamira and Devon turned and saw, speeding down the metal platform with the urgency of her rear end on fire… was a horse. Not a majestic beast of speed and ferocity, like the ones raised by the Attilans or the Chogorisians, but a smaller thing with a dull orange coat, dirt-brown mane and hair, and the biggest green eyes Yamira had ever seen. She trotted down the platform and hurried her way over to Yamira and her coterie, panting and heaving.

"I am super-duper sorry I wasn't here!" She exclaimed. "I had lunch before jumping and travel is always super rough on me, but I wasn't thinking!" She clonked the side of her head with a hoof. "Amber, you big dumb-dumb, you're supposed to make a good impression! YOU'RE NOT DOING THAT!" She stopped her little berating and cleared her throat, putting on a polite-as-can-be smile for the humans. "Right, from the top: Hi, I'm Ambassador Amber Dust, Merodi Relations," She looked up and extended a hoof to Yamira in friendship. "A pleasure to meet you-wahAHAYAHAHAYEE!" One look at Yamira's half-melted face and the little pony had practically jumped two meters in the air with her fur on end. She came to an abrupt landing in Cage's arms, scared out of her wits and clinging like a pterra-squirrel to a tree.

It almost made Yamira crack a smile.

"Here's the Ambassador." Cage tiredly said. "Can I put you down now, Ambs?" Amber shakily shook her head as Cage unceremoniously dropped her back onto the floor. Yamira raised an eyebrow while Devon barely contained a stifled laugh. She turned to Bell and cleared her throat.

"Bell, _record est verbo._" She instructed in High Gothic. The Servitor's eyes lit up as a lengthy roll of parchment fed through a slot on the machine's chest cavity, several small prongs ejecting with ink-filled tips onto the page.

"_DIALOGUM MEMORIA, COMMISSAR._" Bell screeched. The horrid once-feminine voice coming from the voxes built within the throat cavity grated on the ears, the Merodi representatives shrinking as the thing practically screamed in their ears, while Yamira and Devon hardly bat an eye.

"On behalf of the Commissariat, the Astra Militarum and the governing body of the Imperium of Man," Yamira said. As she spoke, Bell rapidly scribbled away on the parchment verbatim in Low Gothic. "I, Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov, accompanied by Captain Devon Mangonel of the Armageddon 805th Regiment, will now commence new service as a representative of the Imperium with the outsider allies, Merodi Universalis. This will be a documentation of my services as representative and will be updated as is seen fit. God-Emperor protects." She turned back to Bell and cleared her throat. "_Memoria finem,_ Bell."

"_RECORDATIO FINEM, COMMISSAR._" Bell concluded, tearing off the completed strip of parchment with numerous small mechanical pinsers. Yamira clasped her hands behind her back and turned to Devon.

"Captain, secure us a seat on board this vessel," she instructed.

"Yes ma'am." One crisp salute and Devon was already on the move. "You there, smokey, show me where we're going to be sitting."

"Wah-huh? Oh yeah, sure." Cage and Devon walked sidelong up the boarding platform, with the two Amethysts following shortly behind them. Amber chuckled nervously and trotted back up to Yamira as she began to move.

"R-right, let's get you situated, miss," she said. "It'll be such an honor to have an esteemed member of your military working alongside us in harmo-" Yamira's pace picked up as soon as Amber tried to offer her hoof again.

"Don't touch me," Yamira quickly said. Amber's ears lilted and her eyes fell downcast while Yamira entered the ship properly with Bell rolling behind. '_Xenos in command, humans as secondaries and compliant to this?_' Yamira bitterly thought. '_The Commissariat expects much of me to do this. Too much, perhaps…'_ She sat herself down in a vacant seat adjacent the cockpit, alongside the currently seated Devon, while Bell just situated itself in a corner of the ship. The Amethysts still refused to look at her scarred face, Cage continued his absent-minded smoking while still staring at her. Yamira closed her good eye and quietly sighed. This was her duty now. And she was loath to be part of it any longer than she needed to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

'_And in His divine wisdom and all-knowing psyche did our most Holy God-Emperor decree: "Go forth across the galaxy, and spread word of My glory and the glory of Mankind." And we did as so, marching across the galaxy in mighty frigates for our Crusades against our many foes. His Children, glorious Primarchs without flaw, set forth to command His Legions, His Angels of Death, to take what is rightfully ours. His Sons took to Ullanor and quelled the Xenos threat with sanctimonious fire, bathing the infested planet with His unbridled wrath. Roboute Guilliman spoke to the God-Emperor, and said to Him-_'

A billow of smoke flooded the compartment and filtered directly into Yamira's eyes and nostrils, immediately causing the Commissar to break into a coughing fit. She quickly shut her pocket book and pressed it to her chest, waving the smoke away from her face.

"Corr blimey, how are you doing that?" Devon exclaimed. Yamira blinked her watery eye clean and glared daggers at her ward. For the duration of travel through the depths of space (for all that Yamira loathed about the Merodi and their Xenos leadership, their innovation of FTL travel that did not involve usage of the Warp was a blessing in disguise), the Captain of the Armageddon 805th had been gawking at Cage Jameson like a child watching an Astartes parade on Sanguinala. Apparently the smoking layabout had a knack for blowing shapes with his lho-sticks (or 'cigarettes' as he called them). They ranged from standard smoke rings and semi-amorphous shapes to far more interesting complexities, like gemstones and ambiguous ponies, even human beings in full motion. While it was impressive, the smell was a continuous bother that Yamira could do without.

"Years of skill and a lil something extra," Cage said, reclining on his seat with his hands folded behind his back. He lowered his sunglasses and caught Yamira's less-than-friendly glare. "Woah, didn't think that could get any nastier. Apparently mellowing out ain't a multiversal trait." Yamira huffed and re-opened her book, searching for the passage she had been reading prior, tuning out whatever inane conversation Devon and Cage were having.

"You'd be as pleasant as acid rain yourself if you had her position," Devon said. "Still, she's one of the better high-ranking officers I've served under. And my platoon's been jumped around a lot." He nudged Cage's shoulder with an elbow and a smirk. "Stuff-shirt commanders drop faster than aristocrats when the wine runs out, eh?" Cage shrugged and resumed his smoking, while one of the two Amethysts standing guard by the cockpit chuckled.

"Still super weird that you guys treat death so casually in this place," she said in a gruff, semi-masculine voice. Yamira had heard that one was called 'Buster' due to the apparently large gloves on her hands, while the other was 'Gab', though she had not spoken a word the entire flight. Yamira hardly cared regardless, they were Xenos guards, nothing more.

"With so many things trying to kill you, you just sort've get used to it," Devon casually said. "Speaking of getting used to things, she's a green one, isn't she?"

"No duh she's green, she's a Peridot." Buster chuckled. Gab, in response, slugged her fellow Gem in the shoulder.

"He's talking about Ambassador Dust, clod-head," Gab said. Yamira spared a glance from her book and saw that, on the center of Gab's tongue, was an elegantly cut purple gemstone, similar to one she had seen directly in the center of Buster's back. '_That explains much,'_ she thought, returning to her scripture.

"Yeah, Ms. Dust has only been at this for a few months," Cage said. "At least as a Merodi rep. She apparently was a big shot back in her universe and took on this job on recommendation by the Overhead herself." Devon whistled, but Yamira scoffed. All eyes fell upon her, waiting for her to give her full thoughts. She rolled her eye and closed her book once more.

"If she truly is a novice in her field," Yamira said, "then she's liable to be eaten alive out here. This galaxy is an unforgiving place, the slightest sign of weakness can lead to an abrupt and immediate end." She opened her book again, thumbing through the pages. "... And I mean what I say literally. Orks will bite your damn heads off if you let them get close." Cage rubbed the base of his neck almost reflexively, while Buster and Gab just shared off-put glances. Devon simply laughed.

"Put the proper fear of the Emperor in 'em, Lady Commissar," he remarked. The door to the cockpit slid open and Amber trotted out, coughing as she walked head-first into a cloud of Cage's second hand smoke.

"Do you really need to do that in here?" she asked amidst coughs. Cage shrugged and rolled his cigarettes to the other side of his mouth so they'd trail elsewhere. The Earth Pony coughed again and turned to the other two humans in the room. "We'll be making one more stop to pick up another passenger, then it's straight towards Celestia City and get you to meet with the Overheads!" She swung her hoof at an attempt at enthusiasm. The half-melted glare from Yamira and the lazy thumbs up from Devon diffused that quickly. Amber meekly smiled and trotted to the vacant seat next to Yamira, unfortunately on the side of her scars. Silence permeated the room as Yamira returned to her reading, while Amber fidgeted in her seat, trying best not to stare. The extent of the woman's injuries was nightmarish. Her skin was a mixture of exposed red muscle and dull brown burnt sinew, the barest hint of exposed bone around the jawline jutted out just enough to be noticeable, and her ear was just gone. Amber felt queasy looking at the strands of flesh hanging from the gaping hole where her cheek once was, moving in and out like limp red noodles with every ragged breath the Commissar took. When the pale, nigh-lifeless eye rolled in its socket and looked directly at Amber, she had enough and screamed, startling everyone in the room.

"Wow, didn't know ponies could get that loud," Devon said, picking at his now ringing ear with his pinky finger. Amber unbuckled herself and threw herself onto the floor in front of Yamira, prostrated and pathetic.

"I'm so-so-so-so-so-SO SORRY!" she cried. "I didn't mean to stare, I really didn't! It was just so hard to take my eyes off your face and how messy it is and how it looks like it's going to fall apart and - AAAAH!" She covered her face with her hooves. "SHUT UP, AMBER, SHUT UP!" As the apparent ambassador had a breakdown on the floor, Yamira just simply… read her book. The noises this Xenos horse was making were annoying, distracting her from the litanies and scriptures from within. She contemplated briefly just kicking her to make her shut up, like she would a snippy Guardsman or blubbering menial. It would get her some brief satisfaction, nothing more, to say the least.

"Jeez, 'If looks could kill', am I right?" Cage said, glancing over to Devon. Devon, for once, wasn't laughing, he was just staring at the crying pony on the floor. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and removed the flask he had on his person.

"Emperor's teeth, it's like watching a recruit in Schola realizing that bullets hurt," he said. He popped the lid off the flask and blew a small whistle. "Hey, little pony." Amber sniffled and turned her head towards Devon, her large eyes puffy and red. "Here, have a swig. It'll ease your nerves." Amber wiped her tears and runny nose with her hoof and stood up, looking at the flask carefully.

"Wh… what's in it?" She asked.

"The good stuff, now drink." Amber lightly licked her lips and accepted the flask with a hoof. Yamira had to wonder how a pony was capable of grasping something with a hoof. They don't bend that way on horses she'd seen prior, nor did they have some odd suction to them. Once more, these Xenos were weird and Yamira felt filthy just by sharing a room with one. Amber brought the flask to her lips and took just the lightest sip. Her eyes immediately went wide and she spat onto the floor, nearly dropping the flask in the process.

"EUGH!" She exclaimed, waggling her tongue in a futile effort to get the taste off her tongue. "Mother of -pbbtt! That was horrible! It's like licking the sweat off a cragodile's backside! By the Tower, IT BURNS!" Devon shrugged and offered the flask to Cage, who politely declined while still watching Amber attempt to cleanse her tongue.

"I guess amasec is an acquired taste," Devon said, taking a swig of his own. "Better than the nutrient paste, at least." Cage and the Amethysts laughed for a small bit, while Amber huffed and sat back down in the vacant seat, tongue still lolling out of her mouth with a pout. "Hey, at least you're not crying and making an arse of yourself in front of dignitaries."

"... Yeah…" Amber pulled her tongue back into her mouth and glanced over to Yamira. She was again lost in her book, but only now did Amber have a closer view at the cover. It was a simple thing, a leather-bound book with a symbol of the same two-headed eagle that appeared all over the Imperium's iconography, with a few small words written in High Gothic that Amber couldn't exactly make out. She cleared her throat and looked up expectantly at the Commissar, who barely regarded her with a nod. "So… good book?"

"The greatest book ever written, Xenos," Yamira said. Amber's ears flattened against her head. First words that the Commissar had spoken to her aside from 'Don't touch me' and they had more bite than a rabid dog. "The _Lectitio Divinitatus_, within are the edicts and prose brought on by the God-Emperor of Mankind and His Sons. It is by His word decreed in this that humanity has achieved that which it has in the span of a few millennia."

"By His word," Devon repeated.

"I am never without my personal copy," Yamira pressed the book against her chest, closing her good eye while fetid remnants of her burnt socket tried to close. "It reminds me that the God-Emperor is always watching me, guiding humanity to a brighter and well-fought future."

"So like the pocket bibles that Reverend Glimmer has at her Church," Cage said. Both Devon and Yamira turned to the smoking man with a show of surprise. "What?"

"You have holy grounds in your territory?" Yamira asked, a bit of relief in her voice. "Good, then the suggestion of the Ecclesiarchy expanding to the heathens has reached the High Lord's ears. About time those doddering old fools did something correctly." Cage glanced over to Amber, one of his cigarettes hanging limply from his lip. Amber just shrugged, that bridge would be crossed at a later date. "Perhaps you might consider attending a service with me when off duty, Captain."

"Of course, Lady Commissar," A toothy grin came across Devon's face. "Been a while since I've listened to the holy edicts from a Chaplain, especially with so many deployments. Never enough time to properly set up when we're being bombarded by heretics and xenos threats at every turn."

"A pity, usually that's _alpha priorus_ after establishing a proper base camp and fortifications. Laborers in your unit must have been getting sloppy."

"We get the shrines up after a few weeks in the muck! You try and recite the proper blessings and sanctification while being caught in the middle of lasgun fire. It's not easy!"

"Wow, all this for your Emperor. Guess he really is as great a guy as they say." Amber piped up. All eyes fell on her, most in disbelief, one in embarrassment, and another that may have been more at home staring down a sniper scope. "What? Overhead Evening says she has interesting conversations with him." The glare from Yamira simply intensified, the half-burned woman leaning over the pony, while Devon's right hand seemed to trace towards his holster on his hip. "A-after all, the Merodi n-need to be in p-p-proper contact with the leaders of people, and he just seems like an interesting conversationalist. Even though he apparently… doesn't… really… um…"

"Hey Amber?" Cage said, after taking a rather long drag of his cigarettes. He pulled them away from his lips as a large grey cloud escaped. "I'd suggest shutting up before you end up choking on your freaking hoof, alright?"

Amber gulped and nodded. "Yeah, I-I-I think that's a good idea." Yamira grit her teeth and opened her book, though her scowl never left her face. The next hour of travel went on in relative silence, save for the crackle of Cage's cigarettes, the din of the ship's machinery, and the crisp turning of aged pages in the _Lectitio Divinitatus_. It was an uneasy silence between the lot of them. Buster and Gab glanced between both sides of the room, watching for any further movements. Devon nursed his drink, while Cage whittled down another trio of cigarettes. Yamira had continued further in her reading, and Amber's eyes had yet to peel away from the floor. It was a silence not entirely welcome, but it was one they were compliant to.

The ship briefly rocked, as everyone felt themselves jerk to the side. Amber's eyes and ears immediately perked up. "Oh! We're here already!" she said. All the woe in her voice from earlier was replaced with eager jubilant mirth. She unhooked herself from the chair and fell to her hooves. "Buster, Gab, come with me please." The two Amethysts nodded and walked out of the room towards the boarding ramp. She turned to the humans with a kindly yet reserved smile. "Please wait here while I go meet with the Por'o. Thank you." Amber couldn't get out of the ship fast enough, trotting out of the room and leaving the three humans behind. The instant they were aware it was just them alone in the room, Yamira closed her book shut with a forceful slam.

"'I guess he is as great a guy as they say'," Yamira said, mockingly. Her impression of the Merodi ambassador was far from perfect, but the sneer on her face was evident. "Heretical sacrilege." She spat a gob of spit onto the floor, staining the pristine silver metal plating. "Were I not under orders to exercise restraint, I would have placed a bolt between her eyes for such disrespect. Treating the God-Emperor as a mere human, truly these Xenos are ignorant."

"Okay," Cage leaned forward in his seat, bits of ash falling from his lit cigarettes. "I get that religion and worship is a big thing with you Imperium types, but lay off the mare, will ya? She's just trying to do her job."

"If she aimed to do it well, then she would be compliant and stay her tongue," Yamira snapped. "Lest one far more fanatical than I take greater offense. Were a Sister of Battle here in my stead, or one of the God-Emperor's Chosen, that Xenos would be torn to pieces for such brazen disrespect."

"You were probably just as spooked on your first big assignment as she was," Cage stood up, a crease forming in his brow as his knuckles clenched. "So why don't you bend over, clench really tightly, and get that golden metal rod out of your ass, huh?" Yamira set her book aside and stood up abruptly as well, her anger flaring up like an oil-soaked bonfire.

"If I were as fearful like an infant mewling when I first set foot on the battlefield, I would have been shot and someone far worthier take my place. You and your bloody Merodi society of Xenos sympathizers and ignorant savages don't know anything about the way we do things. The _right_ way we do things. And furthermore, how _dare_ you speak to a Lady Commissar that way, you Underhive ganger grox-smear!"

"I have zero idea what the hell that means, but I'm taking it as an insult!" The smoke from Cage's cigarettes seemed to trail behind him of their own volition, swirling in a thick mass of grey and black behind him in an amorphous shape. "You wanna go, Crispy-Creep? C'mon, me and C.D. can help fix it so the right side of your face matches your left. You won't even see it coming."

"I will lance your tongue and use your blood to paint the Imperial Aquila across this heretical piece of machinery!" Yamira's sword flew free from her scabbard, the blade glowing a light green as it hummed with a Warp-powered electricity. "See how you manage with a tongue caste from actual silver, you swine!"

"HOLD IT!" Devon shouted, breaking his silence. He had risen from his seat and now stood between the quarreling two with both his hands raised in some form of futile defense. "I am breaking so many edicts in the Book of Judgement right now, but I need to speak, so sit your frakking asses down and SHUT UP!" Yamira stood at the ready with her sword, one motion and she could run the damned heathen through and sizzle his heart on the fields of her Power Sword. It'd be easy, too, nearly thirty years of service against Xenos and heretic threat had improved her swordsmanship immensely. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to move another inch forward. Not with the Captain standing so brazenly right there. Cage, on the other hand, had already made his decision. He stuck two new cigarettes in his mouth, lit them up, and plopped himself back in his seat, while the smoke behind him faded into the air. Yamira closed her good eye, slowly sheathed her sword back into the magnetized sheath, and sat down just as she heard the click. "Thank you."

"What is it you wanted to say, Captain?" Yamira curtly said. Devon thumbed the tube of his gas mask and returned to his own seat.

"Ambassador Dust said the person she was getting was a _Por'o_, right?" He asked, a hard look on his face. "I don't know about you, but that sounds like the name of a-" His thoughts were cut off by the sound of the boarding ramp lowering and the door opening. Alongside the sounds of hooves and footsteps from Amber and the Amethysts, a fourth set was joined. Light in movement, yet somewhat heavier plods compared to the pony. Yamira and Devon braced themselves for the new arrival, as it entered into the room. It was a tall, lithe thing, draped in resplendent white and blue silken robes, pinned together by yellow metals and stones bearing runes of some sort. Its skin was blue, like the oceans of some Paradise World, speckled with deeper blue markings, with eyes of crimson like a Promethean Sun. Its face was distinctly feminine, yet in absence of a nose, a deep groove formed in the shape of a 'Y' that reached just above its eyes. Atop its head rested a large bowl-shaped head-wear, that too featured clean silken drapes that trailed nearly down to the floor. It regarded the humans with a quaint smile and nod… and Yamira wanted to vomit.

Amber followed behind and gestured to the new arrival with a hoof. "Everyone, this is, uh…" Amber glanced about momentarily, then picked up her tablet to read briefly. "The Tau Ambassador, Por'o Bork… Bork'an... Ak-Aku'Sha… Kees? No, Kais. Por'o Bork'an Aku'Sha Kais!" She set the tablet aside and looked hopefully up at the Tau woman. "I'm sorry if I got your name wrong, it's really pretty, though." The Tau closed her eyes and smiled gently.

"That is quite alright, madame ambassador." The Tau said, her voice as gentle as an autumn breeze. "But, if it alright, you may call me 'Windmind'." Amber breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the rest of the room. The Tau, Windmind, looked about in turn, still bearing that sickly sweet smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you all, _gue'la_." She clasped her hands and bowed her head. "I look forward to helping establish our allegiance with the kind and generous people of Merodi Universalis." As she bowed, Devon and Yamira both exchanged identical faces and identical thoughts. Both of which could be summed up in a single prayer from the _Lectitio Divinitatus._

"_Emperor preserve us."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"We'll be arriving in Celestia City in just a few minutes!" Amber said, poking her head out from the cockpit. "We just need to navigate through the debris of the Martian atmosphere. There is," She glanced back into the cockpit and the window. "whew, a LOT of space garbage here. Sit tight and we'll be back on the ground soon!" She ducked back into the cockpit, leaving the room filled with dignitaries and Merodi guards to their prior silence. There had been little conversation between anyone since they made landfall at the Tau Embassy and retrieved Windmind. The tension had made the atmosphere barely breathable as everyone sat in awkward silence. While Windmind herself had been kind, cordial, and overall relaxed company, every time she made some movement, gesture, or so much as said a word, Yamira and Devon both appeared to restrain themselves from doing something so brazenly rash. It had even reached a point where Devon requested he change seats to the other side of the transport, so he didn't have to be in the immediate proximity of the female Xenos diplomat, all because she simply smiled at him. With the news of arrival, the tension eased a bit, but Yamira still refused to take her eyes off the Tau woman.

"About time," Cage said, dusting off a layer of ash that had accumulated on his clothing onto the floor, joining a mess of cigarette butts that Yamira had lost count of after thirty. "If I sat here any longer, my legs would go stiff from rigor mortis."

"I am most excited to see this City of Celestia myself," Windmind said. "Aun'va have spoken such wondrous things about it, the integration of such technological wonderments, and the blending of many cultures and peoples." She let off a breathy sigh and clasped her hands together. "It is such an honor amongst my caste to represent our Empire in such a way." Though Yamira's experiences with the Tau were few (much of her service spent facing against Tyranids, heretics, the occasional Ork Warband, and those of the Aeldari here and there), she knew enough to familiarize herself with the loathsome race. The diamond-shaped symbol on her chest denoted her to be of the Water Caste, the diplomats and ambassadors of their race. Yamira had heard stories of human planets visited by these silver-tongued Xenos, beguiling them into joining their budding empire with promises of unison and equality for all. She even heard of fellow Guardsmen falling for propaganda and abandoning their oaths to the God-Emperor to serve the Tau as a slave would serve a planetary governor. And now one was in her presence, freely speaking like it had the right to. "What are you most excited for, _gue'la_ of the Imperium?" Yamira blinked back to reality, she hadn't even realized her focus was lost until the Xenos spoke. She narrowed her gaze and adjusted her hat.

"A moment to remove myself from the presence of Xenos and heretics," she growled. Windmind pursed her lips together briefly, then gave a slight nod, her large bowl-shaped hat bobbing a bit atop her head.

"Yes, a time to rest would be beneficial to us all," Windmind said. "Perhaps there will be some form of housing provided to all of us?"

"Oh yeah, I think the Overheads got something in mind for you guys," Cage said. He flicked a cigarette butt off his lap and scratched his head. "Probably that huge residential complex for all the other diplomats and ambassadors, or something. Labor's been working hard as hell to get it made." He stretched a bit and folded his arms behind his head. "I'm just looking forward to getting back to my place and taking the longest nap I can before they haul my ass off to another thing." Yamira reclined in her seat, idly running her fingers over the cover of her book as she tuned out the blathering of Cage and the Tau diplomat. Her mind wandered to other things. Of the litanies she read, of the orders she received, even of the hum of machinery and the chugging noises Bell made off in its corner. None of them soothed her agitated nerves. She rolled her head to the side and spotted Devon, idly sitting in his chair and tapping his metallic foot on the floor in rhythm with a light hum he had going. He'd always had that false leg, long before even meeting the Armageddon Guardsman, but he was never very consistent with how he got it. First it was from an Ork landmine left behind from the Third War of Armageddon, then it was a collapsing Space Hulk falling onto him whilst escaping genestealers, one time was apparently some daft story of being lost on a sand-covered Death World and having to eat his own foot to stay alive. She stopped asking around the same time she received her own war wounds.

The Skiff groaned as it rolled to the side, disrupting everything within. Buster and Gab collided with one another and fell onto the floor, Cage dropped all seven of his cigarettes, Windmind squeaked as she tried to keep that hat of hers atop her head, and Bell had fallen right onto its back, screaming in binary from the sudden lack of stability. Devon covered his ears from the techno-babble screaming from the servitor's vox, while Yamira clung tightly to her seat as she felt her stomach churn with the twists of the ship.

"Bell, engage mag-locks!" Yamira ordered. Bell immediately ceased its digitized screaming with a series of beeps. A low hum came from the base of the machine as it slowly began to pull itself upright with its spider-like legs, digging themselves into the panelling to support its heavy body. Once it was upright, a dull blue light shone underneath, and with a dull thunk, Bell had affixed itself in place with a magnetic pull. By then, the Skiff had balanced itself out, though everyone was still naturally shaken.

Amber opened the cockpit door, her mane an absolute mess and eyes wide as saucers. "Everyone okay?" she asked. "So sorry about that, there was a big metal _thing_ flying past us and we had to swerve to avoid it, then there were these towers in the way and we had to go around that, I ended up hitting my head on the side of the controls…" She rubbed the side of her head with a hoof for further emphasis. "But we should be in the clear for now!"

"Great…" Devon muttered, massaging his temples. "Does that we mean we land soon? Saint's ashes, I thought this would've been smoother than Warp travel with the gellar fields on high…."

"Oh, about two minutes, actually!" Amber said. "So please sit tight, we'll be landing shortly." The cockpit door closed again, and the cabin was left in relative silence once more. While Bell disengaged its mag-locks and the others picked themselves up from the crash, Yamira simply sat in her seat and patiently waited for the most uncomfortable journey of her life (thus far) to end. Thankfully, the wait did not last long, as the familiar sound of the Skiff touching down on solid ground. Amber exited the cockpit again, smiling gleefully. "We have arrived!" Yamira couldn't unfasten herself from her seat fast enough, already back on her feet and making her way towards the gangplank. She briefly halted in her steps to order Bell to follow. The servitor beeped and skittered across the floor behind its master, with Devon, still massaging away at his temples, following suit. When the door of the Skiff opened, Yamira had stayed herself when she saw into the pride of Merodi Universalis' capital city.

First she noticed was the taste of the air itself. Worlds within the Imperium always had this taste in the air, a coppery taste laced with ash from the industry of war, often heaviest in Forgeworlds and Hiveworlds, even the glorious Paradise Worlds and the Throneworld itself were not spared of this taste. But this? The air had a taste of freshness to the air that made Yamira's tongue tingle, a purity to it not found even on most Agriworlds or unsettled territories. Once the taste had passed, she saw the sprawling city before her. Great glimmering towers of sleek and elegant design, sprawling as far as they eye could see. The metropolis lacked the intimidating overview of the Hive-Cities or the Fortresses of Imperium might, but it was an incredible sight to behold. It even held a beauty even as the skull-faced foundries of Mars loomed overhead in the sky above. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until Devon tapped her on the shoulder, rousing her from a daydream.

"Lady Commissar," he said. "Amber Dust procured us a transport. C'mon, let's get going." Yamira nodded and followed the Captain into a moderately sized wheelless transport vehicle, roughly bigger than a Hellhound Tank, where Amber, Windmind and Cage were already waiting, with Cage at the wheel. Yamira and Devon took their own seats in the back of the transport, while Bell stood upright and mag-locked itself in the most vacant seating spot it could find.

"Tau lady, Bacon-bits, Captain Devon," Cage said, resting his hands on the wheel. "Welcome to Celestia City, the big shiny heart of Merodi Universalis. Next stop, the Office of Relations." Cage plucked two of his three cigarettes out of his mouth and snuffed them out in an ashtray. "Buckle up, because like hell am I going to get caught in the midday rush."

"Cage, no." Amber cautiously said, already buckled in.

"Cage, yes." Cage replied, grinning ear to ear. The transport hummed to life as Cage turned on the ignition on. For some reason, Yamira felt her stomach prepare to lurch, and she never even considered motion sickness. "Smoke 'em if ya got 'em." Windmind barely had a moment to ask 'got what', before they had gone from zero to eighty miles per hour, taking off into the wild expanse of the shining city of the Merodi.

Yamira hated going fast. She hated having to hold onto her hat, she hated the sting of air in her eyes, she hated feeling the wind rip through the shreds of burned flesh in her cheeks, but the one thing she hated most was insane drivers who relished going fast. This was happening all at once. Zooming through the Merodi airways like a round from a misfired sniper, the hovering transport vehicle flew past other transports and ships with reckless abandon, everything was a blur of colors all around, and it was nauseating. Yamira had dug her fingers in as hard as she could into the upholstered armrests, feeling the sheer turbulence peel away what little skin she had left on her face, staring dead ahead as the smoking madman drove them through Merodi airspace. She moved what little she could to see how her fellow passengers were doing on this madcap ride. Devon clung just as tightly as she did, but the lucky sod had managed to get his hazard mask on to keep himself safe from the torrent of wind. Amber looked positively terrified, blown back into her seat with her eyes forced wide open by the sheer g-force. Even Windmind looked completely startled, using her bowl-hat to shield herself while her silken robes billowed about wildly like a blanket in front of a cooling fan at maximum speed. And Cage, mad smoking Cage, was just grinning ear to ear, his cigarette smoke trailing out of his lips as he simply embraced the speed.

"Woah, red light." The transport came to an abrupt stop before a hanging display of three lanterns, one of which, of course, glowing bright red. The whiplash was instantaneous, Yamira and the others immediately buckling forward in their restraints, although a wet and squishy pop didn't sound all too appropriate for a midday drive. Yamira felt extremely lightheaded, rubbing her undamaged half looking around woozily.

"Um… Lady Commissar?" Devon said, tapping Yamira's shoulder. She turned her head towards the Captain, feeling something wet smack against her cheek. Devon pointed to his right eye, a gesture which Yamira mirrored and…

"... Saints preserve me," Yamira muttered. "It happened again."

Amber turned around in her seat. "What happened agai- OH MY GOODNESS!" The pony went from yellow to green quickly, pressing a hoof to her mouth to keep the bile down. Yamira sighed and rolled her head back, clutching her own greying eyeball, dangling haphazardly off her scorched cheek by useless nerves and sinews.

"Captain, watch to make sure nothing is awry." she instructed, carefully raising her eyeball up. Devon just nodded and watched Yamira carefully insert her eye back into its socket. It was a gross process, one that required a lot of precision and care, lest she end up with one more missing piece of her body and a demand by the Astra Militarum that she get proper bionics. If she wanted to consign herself to augmetics and constantly maintaining herself like a war machine, she may as well don red robes and join the Machine Cult. With a wet squelch, Yamira set her eye back in place. It rolled a bit in the socket, trying to situate itself properly in Yamira's half-fried skull. "You can stop emptying your stomach over the side of the vehicle now." Amber groaned and sat back in her seat, still a bit green with a line of drool running from the corner of her lips.

"Sorry again…" Amber said. "I, uh…" She swallowed and rubbed her head. "I don't handle blood well. Haven't been able to since I was a filly, when I saw a carriage, ulp, run over a poor squirrel."

"I didn't ask for your life story, Xenos." Yamira curtly said. "I simply got tired of hearing you painting the side of this vehicle green."

"Doesn't matter, this thing's a rental." Cage added, flicking his spent cigarette into the expanse below. Amber sighed again and leaned on the arm of her seat, while Yamira looked on the opposite side. She immediately wished she hadn't when she saw what was hovering beside them. A jet, black as midnight, with curves and points all ending in fine sharp blades, only slightly eclipsing their own transport thricefold. The sleek, edged exterior looked ready and able to lop any an unsuspecting head clean off from a mere drive-by, the silver, sinister weapons no doubt primed and ready to tear a hole in the fabric of reality of whatever target it may meet. It hovered silently midair, an ominous, nightmarish thing that could sooner be classified as a weapon more than a ship. Yamira stared at the jet agape, her lips going dry and sweat forming across her brow as she slapped her hand on the arm of her chair, trying desperately to reach for a weapon.

"Everything alright, _gue'la_?" Windmind asked. She hadn't even noticed the Tau was staring at her.

"Razorwing." Yamira quickly said, still slapping her seat.

"A what?" Windmind tilted her head.

"Razorwing!" Yamira shouted. Devon practically sprang to his feet, only constrained by his seatbelt.

"A what?!" Devon exclaimed.

"THERE'S A DRUKHARI RAZORWING HERE!" Yamira screamed, finally tearing free her sword from its sheath and wildly swinging it over the edge of the transport. The gap between Yamira, her sword, and the Razorwing was a good few feet, so the Lady Commissar merely sliced at the air. "DRIVE ME CLOSER, I WANT TO HIT THEM WITH MY SWORD!" Yamira unbuckled herself and stood up, still swinging haphazardly, while the transport itself started to rock.

"Hey, hey, hey, are your brains fried too?" Cage said, clasping tightly onto the wheel. "We're hundreds of miles in the air and I don't think any of you guys can fly!" Yamira just kept screaming and trying to cut the black metal jet to ribbons from fifteen feet away. "Alright, can someone sit her ass down? The light's about to turn." Devon unbuckled himself and wrapped his arms around the Lady Commissar's abdomen, just as she was about to plant a boot on the door of the transport. She fought and screaming bloody murder, still resisting being pulled back down onto her seat. She wanted the ship destroyed, she wanted to tear open its cockpit, she wanted to plunge her sword into the heart of its pilot again and again and again until she painted the whole damn thing with its disgusting alien innards.

"THAT'S IT!" shouted _Amber_, jumping from her seat and slamming both of her hooves onto Yamira's shoulder. The Earth Pony's surprising display of strength caused Yamira to buckle from the blow, dropping her sword onto the floor of the transport and losing her focus. Yamira quickly found herself both free of Devon's grasp and sitting down back in her seat, staring face to face with a very angry pony. "I tried to be as nice as I could be, I know how crazy sensitive and violent the Imperium gets, I got enough of it back home, but good gosh and golly, my patience has worn thin quick! You're in Merodi territory as a dignitary representing your entire empire, so sit down, shut up, and behave!"

Yamira had no words. This meek little Xenos, which was practically quivering at her boots when they first met, had the gall to yell at her. More than that, it _struck her down_ with those flimsy nubby hooves of hers. Yamira was too shocked to even say anything, just remaining sat in her seat. Amber snorted and sat back in her chair. "Cage, let's go. And don't go so fast, this isn't a street race."

"Uh… yeah." Cage said. Seems he was equally as dumbfounded, not even lighting the cigarette hanging limply in his mouth. The light changed from red to green, and the drive continued, while the Razorwing sped off ahead. The rest of the drive was in silence, even more pregnant of a quiet than the flight aboard the shuttle to Celestia City. Yamira felt her mind stuck in a feedback loop, trying to process what had just happened. First a Drukhari ship, here, so close to the Throneworld itself, just slightly out of arm's reach; and now the meek, miniature horse Xenos had suddenly grown a pair, as someone so crass would put it. The galaxy had gone mad, and Yamira couldn't tell whether she was a byproduct, or only now aware of it. She hadn't even realized the ride had ended and the others were offloading onto the ground until, once again, roused from her daydreaming by her second.

"Let's go, Lady Commissar." Devon said. Yamira nodded and unbuckled herself from the transport's seat, exiting as everyone else made their way to the towering spire of the Relations Office. Though Yamira still felt at a state of unease, as she saw a sharp black shape entering into one of the entrances high above. Yet still, she moved on. The apparent leader of the Merodi Universalis awaited.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

One of the worst foes for any military officer to face is waiting. The silent wait for an advance on the front to be made, the anticipatory wait to call the order for a Ratling sniper to pick off a target meters away, the terrifying wait for the enemy to make a move and eventually overwhelm unprepared forces. Waiting was an enemy of many faces, each with its own hurdles to face and ways of defeating it. The tedious wait in a lobby to be called in for a meeting has no such weaknesses, and has the resounding sensation of boredom as its weapon. There is no proper way to combat it, just surrender and admission to defeat.

Yamira Kalov would not accept that defeat, even though she had been seated in the Office of Relations lobby for the past twenty minutes with naught but the sound of a ticking clock to break apart the deathly silence. If only she had the abilities psykers had, then she would have simply exploded the thing with her mind to end her annoyance of it. Filthy abhumans they may have been, at least they had advantages and powers akin to the God-Emperor himself, though nowhere near his level. Yet still, here she was, a bored and irritated normal human, stuck dealing with the incessant tick-tock of the clock on the wall.

A unicorn opened the main door, carrying a clipboard in his magical grasp. "Commissar Kalov?" he said. "The Overheads are waiting for you. Follow me, please." Finally, freedom from an eternal wait. Yamira stood up and followed the unicorn into the corridors. She took a moment to properly study the creature, now being the second of these ponies she had properly seen up close. Like Amber, he had eyes that were much too big and came in an array of bright colors. The horn on its head seemed far too small to be used for goring, like pike-mounts on a Rough Rider's steed, yet the teal glow around it and the board hovering beside him certainly caught her eye. She had heard stories from fellow Commissars and Guardsmen that, of the variants of these pony Xenos, the horned unicorns possessed abilities that would take most psykers decades to master. She couldn't tell whether that made her impressed or slightly more revolted, to see another Xenos psyker race. Adorned on his flank was an image of a quill on parchment, a peculiar thing that Yamira had neglected to notice before.

'_Must be a Xenos tribal rite of passage,_' she thought. '_Or some other heretical trite.'_ Come to think of it, she didn't recall seeing what kind of marking that Amber Dust had when they first met. If time permit, she will have to investigate further, without looking like a damn nut for staring at rear ends of miniature horses. By the time Yamira came out of her introspective analysis on the Xenos, she and her escort had arrived at a set of double doors, which promptly parted way and allowed for the _other_ Xenos to exit, the Tau Ambassador.

"Oh, hello again, Commissar Kalov!" Windmind cheerily greeted. Yamira had to restrain herself from gritting her teeth at the notion of this ambivalent Tau referring to her by nam;, the luxury of a concealing cheek was halfway lost upon her. "I had a delightful meeting with the Overheads. Such wonderful _po'nai_ and _gue'la_! So much to talk about. We'll have to talk later after you have your meeting with them. Good-bye!"

"Yes, talk later," Yamira muttered as Windmind walked away through the halls. "When the Fabricator-General sprouts wings and flies to Phobos…" She strode through the doors and into the office. It was decorated with a few things, here and there, mostly pictures of Xenos, some plaques and things, bookshelves, stuff of little consequence for the Commissar. Her focus was on the two beings in the room already. First was the one at the desk, another pony female (or mare, as Yamira had been informed they were called), only this one had two large wings and a horn. She had been somewhat informed that the combination of these traits denoted leadership, in a similar vein to how Orks declare themselves leader for merely being bigger than the others. How droll. The pony was predominantly purple: purple coat, darker purple mane and tail, sporting a pink and orange pair of stripes through each, a mark of a starburst on her flank, and peculiar metallic things on her ears that made them seem a bit sharper. The smile the pony had on her face was welcoming, yet Yamira still held hesitancy.

Standing next to her, however, was a human. An older-looking man with rugged features dressed in refined attire, all while bearing the Merodi's symbol upon his shoulder. From all her years serving in the Astra Militarum, Yamira had learned how to read a person's stance to gauge who and what they were, as well as reflect it upon herself. Xenos, it was still difficult at times, but humans were easy to read as can be. This man, Yamira saw, was one of action, one of discipline. Military. She felt herself at ease, being in the presence of both one of her human kin (albeit from across the universal boundaries) and one who serves the military to boot. She had been in the presence of commanders and generals who carried themselves lightly, grown fat and lazy from decadence and hardly setting a toe on the battlefield, but this man's firm stance and crisp look told of years in active duty. Admirable, indeed, and yet his association with Xenos weakened the aura a bit.

"Welcome, Lady Commissar," the pony said, still maintaining her politician's smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Evening Sparkle, I'm the Overhead of Relations." Yamira simply nodded, keeping her face neutral as she strode into the room properly. The military man gave his own smile and tilted his head.

"I'm General Jack O'Neill," he said. "Military Overhead. Eve asked that I come along to provide some ease for you, soldier to soldier." Yamira immediately placed a hand to the right side of her chest in salute, bowing a bit.

"Thank you, General, sir," Yamira said. "It is a pleasure to meet the leader of the military of this society." Eve raised one of her eyebrows briefly, but brought it back down and kept her smile.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Eve asked, gesturing to the two chairs in front of her desk. "Get yourself comfortable so we can have our talk?" Yamira rose from her bow and brought both her hands behind her back, staring at Eve with her one good eye.

"I would prefer," she coldly said. "To stand." Eve retracted her hoof and placed it upon her desk.

"This might be a while, so you should take a seat if you wish," O'Neill offered.

"If you so insist, General." Yamira immediately sat herself down, her sword clacking against the arm of the chair as she made herself comfortable. Eve cleared her throat, her large lavender wings slightly ruffling at her sides.

"As I told the Por'o who has just left," Eve said. "We're delighted to fully welcome new ambassadors to Celestia City, to further steel the bonds between our society, and the many cultures and empires of your universe. Unity and harmony is our ambition, and any way that we can achieve this throughout this galaxy, we will do as we can." Her ears flicked as Yamira lightly clicked her teeth in displeasure. "This exchange of representatives will hopefully help us achieve that sooner, and we look forward to whatever aid you can provide us on this endeavor."

"And what, Emperor willing, do you have in mind for me, Xenos?" The furrow on O'Neill's brow was evident, but he still maintained his composure, despite his clear displeasure.

"Well, we hope you can provide insight into the Imperium," O'Neill said. "And how we can best go about proper diplomacy without riling up local politics and making a scene.  
I've been around the bend plenty of times before to understand a militaristic political climate."

"An excellent proposal indeed, General," Yamira replied, glancing up at O'Neill. "A proper tactic for intelligence-gathering and establishing connections. Truly a well-coordinated move from a military mind such as yourself."

Eve lowered her eyelids and raised a hoof. "The representatives idea was mine," she said. Yamira jerked her head back to Eve, her dead eye rolling slightly in her skull as her good lips turned downwards. Eve leaned forward and tapped her hooves together. "So, Lady Commissar, can you tell us what we could do to fully establish ourselves as peaceful allies of the Imperium of Man?"

"You want my suggestions, you say?" Yamira asked. She raised her right leg and crossed it over her left, planting both her gloved hands atop her knee. "Very well, I will provide my suggestion: Get out."

Eve blinked repeatedly while O'Neill remained stoic. "E-excuse me?"

"You heard me, _Xenos_." Yamira sneered. She uncrossed her legs and gripped both arms of her chair. "Get out of Imperium space, get out of our galaxy, and get out of our universe, and never return." O'Neill clenched his fingers as Yamira slowly stood up, not once taking her eye off the purple pony. "The Imperium of Man will never bend the knee to an empire of Xenos and heretical sympathisers. The mere existence of you as a power, trying to coerce us to work alongside Xenos that have done naught but pillage, subjugate and destroy our worlds and homes, makes me and humanity itself want to vomit. The only reason that this floating nation has not been blasted from orbit by the combined artillery of Mars and every one of you butchered like the animals you are," she slammed both her hands on the top of Eve's desk, prompting her to wince from the sudden loudness. "Is because the God-Emperor wills it."

Yamira felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, turning to her left and spotting a very irate O'Neill as the culprit. "I'm going to suggest you sit back down before I put you down," he said. "Nobody wants an inter-universal incident." Yamira growled, glaring at the General who dared touch her. Gone was the respect she had for the man of military she had initially laid eyes on when she entered the room. Now stood a man no better than a turncoat for the Rogue Traders or, Emperor forbid, the Tau.

"It's alright, Jack," Eve suddenly said. "We asked for her opinion, and she gave it. We can't fault her for that." O'Neill gave Eve a look of disbelief, one almost mirrored by Yamira. The Xenos leader was agreeing with her? Had the whole galaxy gone mad? O'Neill withdrew his hand and Yamira stepped back from the desk, still looking down at Eve. "And she is right. The only reason that we haven't engaged in full-scale war with the Imperium is because of the Emperor, he told me so himself. This program of exchange is meant to fix that so we can be trusted amongst the populace."

"A fool's errand. You'd sooner find a coherent Ork with a lexicon than convince a sane member of the Imperium to side with -" Yamira stopped herself. "Wait… what was that you said?"

"The exchange program is to help establish proper relations amongst the Imperium's populace?" Eve said.

"No, before that." Yamira felt her eye twitch again. "About the God-Emperor."

"That… he's the only reason the Merodi aren't fighting your forces in war?"

"You said he told you so himself." Yamira's left hand slowly drifted over her left side. "You were on Holy Terra's soil." Eve had already risen from her desk by the time Yamira unlatched the clasp of her holster and wrapped her fingers around the grip of her bolt pistol. "BLASPHEMY!" She screamed, drawing her hefty gun and aiming directly at Eve's head. "PURE HERESY!" O'Neill shouted something, but his words were promptly drowned out by the loud pop and the rending of metal. When Yamira pulled the trigger on her gun, a rush of nausea seemed to flood over her, causing her to stagger and wobble. Her half-vision disoriented, Yamira was suddenly hurled off her feet and slammed into a wall, her sword and gun stripped from her person as her body ached with pain. Her mind swam about in an ocean of drunken delirium and rage, barely able to keep afloat amidst the ideas of a Xenos being on the Throneworld for the first time in thousands of years and speaking with the most holy being in existence. It was more than heresy. It was sin, and Yamira desired to see it purged.

When Yamira's blurred vision returned, she saw Eve standing in front of her, horn glowing a pinkish color, while O'Neill glared viciously at her. "Commissar Yamira Kalov," Eve firmly said. "If O'Neill didn't react as quickly as he did, your action would have been grounds for war against the Imperium. While I'm sure the idea pleases you, it would be a war the Imperium would not win." Eve took one step forward, and Yamira felt the pressure on her body tighten. "I would list all the ways that we hold the advantage, but I will remind you that already many Eldar Craftworlds, Ork Freebootas and even the Tau Empire have come to our side. Do you think the Imperium could survive that? Do you think this is what your Emperor would want?" Were it not for the heavy field of magic holding the Commissar in place, Yamira would have held her tongue regardless. As much as she could promote the strength of the Imperial Guard, the mighty bulwark of the Imperial Navy, the overwhelming power of the Astartes, and even the mere existence of the God-Emperor of Mankind Himself… she knew that the little horse was right. The Imperium, once a glimmering golden goliath in the galaxy, was now a shadow of what it was. Even with the return of one of the God-Emperor's own Sons, the Imperium would barely hold its ground against the combined force of these otherworldly visitors and their Xenos allies. As good as it would feel to take her weapons and go on a slaughter even the Black Templars would balk at, it would have been a totally fruitless endeavor.

Yamira slowly nodded, and was promptly freed from Eve's magical grasp, dropping down onto the floor with a thud. "I don't want this to remain a partnership of mutually assured benefits that could turn to mutually assured destruction, Commissar," Eve softly said, though her expression still remained stern. "But this animosity cannot remain throughout your stay here. You'll have to comply somewhat with our rules, if you do not want to face punishment." Yamira staggered to her feet, clutching her sore abdomen, while Eve levitated her sword and bolt pistol back to her. "I will let this slide for now, but please at least give us a chance. If not for your sake, then for the Imperium." Yamira snatched her weapons from Eve's magic and set them back onto her belt, still maintaining her glare, but her prior rage had been somewhat subsided.

"Very well," Yamira said. "I will comply." '_Yet I will not bend the knee._' she thought. Eve lightly smiled and returned to her desk.

"Thank you, Commissar," she said stiffly. "You're free to go. Amber will take you and your plus-ones to your new residency. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Celestia City." Business concluded, Yamira tipped the brim of her hat and exited through the doors of the office. She might have been out of there quicker, thanks to her hurried pace, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She already knew who had grabbed her; there was no need to turn and check.

"Eve may give you this one free pass for your crazy actions," O'Neill harshly whispered. "But you'll be watched like a hawk while you're here. This may be your universe, but you're on our soil. You screw up, you face _our_ judicial system." His fingers tightened on her shoulder. "Is that clear?"

"Of course, General," Yamira said. O'Neill withdrew his hand and walked back into Eve's office, leaving the Commissar to stand alone in the hall. A full minute passed before Yamira finally decided to march out of the halls, back into the waiting room, and out through the doors into the wild open of Celestia City without so much as a glance towards the receptionist from earlier. O'Neill was right: Yamira was in a whole new world, and she would not let it break her so easily.

Yamira walked down the stairs of the Relations Office, keeping her stride cool and militaristic as she descended the steps. She spared a few glances to those passing by her, each as distinct and unique as the last. Humans, ponies, bipedal winged lizards, bird-feline hybrids, insectoid equines, more variations of the Gem Xenos, things like humanoid mushrooms, clumps of fur, it was like a menagerie of lifeforms, all coming and going about their daily lives. Were it not for the abundance of Xenos and abhumans, it almost reminded Yamira of the Hive-Cities she had been to in the past. A bit of home, almost. As she neared the bottom of the steps, she brushed past a portly man in a suit, barely regarding him and the wide smile across his face as she came to the ground landing. Off on the side was the parked rented vehicle, and there stood Devon, Cage, Bell and Amber. Judging by the way Devon was shaking his metal foot about, he must have been engrossed in recapping one of his war stories. Yamira folded her arms behind her back and marched over.

"- shifted my hips in just the right moment," Devon said, reclining on the vehicle in a faux posture of being restrained. "I narrowly avoided the chain-axe coming down to lop my frakking head off, but it cost me my foot in the process. WHACK!" He brought his metal foot down with a clank, causing Amber to jump, but still stare in awe. "By the time the cultist realized he missed, I swung my other foot around and got the big bastard behind me in his gut, and broke free of the grapple!" He laughed and hopped onto his feet, putting his fists up and throwing a few jabs. "They were no match for me after that, especially after the dumb one with the axe threw his only weapon right into his mate's skull. The rest was just easy pickings." Cage smirked and clapped while Amber just continued her staring.

"Wow, what a story." Amber breathlessly said. "I can't believe you took on eight heavily-armed cultists all by yourself with only one foot and no weapons."

"That's interesting," Yamira said, startling both Amber and Devon. "Last time you said that one, you told me it was six heavily-armed cultists _and_ you had an empty stub pistol." Devon smirked and rubbed the back of his head, jostling his helmet a bit.

"Well, ah… Truth be told, it was six, but one of them was a mutant with four arms," Devon said. "But that technically counts as eight! Big as an ogryn, he was!" Amber looked perplexed while Cage just snickered and flung a spent cigarette into the street. Yamira shook her head and patted Devon on the shoulder, bringing the Captain down a bit. "Right… So, how'd the meeting go with the leader?" he asked.

"It…" Yamira had to stop herself from recounting the exact details on how she was flung into a wall for trying to kill one of the Merodi's leaders for high heresy, but still maintained her composure. "It went as well as it could. General O'Neill was an interesting man, to say the least. A much clearer head than the Lord Commander, I'll admit that." Devon let off a light chuckle. "As for… Overhead Evening Sparkle," she glanced down at Amber, who immediately shrank away from her half-melted gaze. Yamira still could barely process how, moments ago, this very same skittish pony had forced her from nearly capsizing the vehicle in the pursuit of trying to attack the black ship from before. Those same big eyes had that flicker of determination and fury, but now they were just buried away in those big pools on her face. Yamira turned back to Devon and lightly shrugged. "Is also interesting. Likely we will have another meeting after we have spent some time in our residency here." Amber immediately seemed to perk up, her eyes practically sparkling with joy. "So, Captain, it seems you'll be enjoying your shoreleave after all."

Devon sighed in relief. "Thank the Emperor," he said. "About time I get to relax. Barely got a moment's rest during the Karthag Campaign." Yamira internally winced at the mention of that travesty, but maintained her composure. "So, what's to be done now?"

"The Overhead suggested that we could go to visit our new lodgings and situate ourselves," Yamira said, stroking her chin. "I think _some_ manner of rest is due."

"Ooh! Ooh!" Amber suddenly spoke up, hopping and raising her hoof. "I have an idea! I know what we can do first!" All eyes turned on the little yellow pony. She stopped her bouncing and put on a hesitant smile. "Well, uh, I've learned that, ah, the best way to both relax and experience new environments and cultures is to… get some food?"

"Oh man, yes." Cage said, snapping his fingers. "I could totally go for some great food right now. Hell," he lit two cigarettes and added them to his mouth. Current total now stands at five, and Yamira already can feel the smell. "I know some of the best restaurants in the whole city, some places most people don't even know about."

Yamira raised her hand, cutting Cage off. "Food won't be necessary." Yamira said. "Captain Mangonel and I already have something to eat once we reach the lodgings." Devon's immediate look of confusion was promptly replaced with dismay as he rubbed his forehead.

"Oh no, come on," he moaned. "Not the frakking paste again." Yamira raised an eyebrow and glanced over to her ward.

"What's wrong with the paste?" she asked. "It's healthy, provides all the nutrients we need, keeps one fed for days on end…"

"And it tastes like grox shit."

"It doesn't even _have_ a taste. There's absolutely no need to complain."

"There is when you've had nothing but that crap for weeks trudging through the blasted wastelands."

"This the most childish thing I've heard you complain about in all my years knowing you, Captain." Amidst the apparently awkward conversation between Yamira and Devon on the value of nutrient paste, Cage had gotten immediately bored and glanced off to the side, blowing more smoke into the air. As he paused to take another breath, he hitched and all color from his face drained. Directly across the street from their parked location stood a woman, dressed in a black dress with white diamonds patterned along the hem of the skirt, sporting long black hair that draped all the way down to her knees, ending in perfectly-rolled curls. She glared at Cage with an apparent burning fury.

"Oh shit," Cage suddenly said, immediately looking away. The smoke around him began to coalesce, forming into a wide oval right behind him. "WELL, this has been a fun meeting, but I gotta get going," he loudly said, breaking the conversation between the two soldiers. Amber and Devon looked confused, while Yamira simply looked annoyed. "I have a place to go and do the thing with the stuff. Ambs, I'll call ya later. Captain, you're a total bro, we should go drinking sometime. Ms. Rawhide, hope you get a proctologist to look at that rod soon. I'll think of a nickname for Tau Lady next time I see her." The smoke cloud had completely solidified in a thick gray haze as Cage backed up, pointing at everyone while keeping his usual smile. "Smoke 'em if ya got 'em. **Cigarette Daydreams.**" Cage backed into the cloud of smoke… and he was suddenly gone. Completely vanished, dispelling as the smoke blew to the winds. Yamira's good eye widened, while Devon's jaw dropped. Cage Jameson had literally disappeared in a puff of smoke, right in front of their eyes. Amber, however, immediately rushed over to the car and looked around the driver's seat.

"Darn it, he took the keys…" Amber grumbled, stepping back from the car. "That's just peachy-keen, Cage. Disappearing like that and taking the keys…" She growled and stamped her hoof. "Oh, that is just so TYPICAL of him!" Yamira broke out of her shocked stupor and turned to Amber, her brow furrowed and a scowl once again appearing.

"Explain," she firmly said. Amber stopped her pouting and looked up at Yamira, bending her ears in response to Yamira's angry face.

"Oh, um… yeah, it's…" Amber gulped and took a few steps back. "It's really, really, really hard to explain, but, uh… you see…" She tapped her front hooves together. "Cage has these, uh… powers, that can do all these… things with smoke? L-like make p-p-portals?"

"Portals." Yamira repeated. Amber nodded vigorously. "With smoke." Amber nodded again. Yamira sighed and rubbed her burnt side. "There's no such thing as normalcy in this damn place…." Devon rattled his head, still staring at the spot where Cage once stood.

"Wait a tick," he said. "If he's got the keys, then how in the Emperor's name are we supposed to get around without a proper transport?!"

"Hold on, hold on!" Amber said, cautiously gesturing with her hooves. "There's other options, there's no need to panic!" She rushed over to the vehicle and picked up one of the odd devices Yamira had seen her fiddling with during the flight. A square thing, no doubt similar to a dataslate or an auspex, or some piece of technology that escaped her. After a bit of fiddling, Amber smiled and hugged the device to her chest. "Okay, good news: I got us a ride. They'll be here in about a minute." Devon seemed to be put somewhat at ease, but Yamira still seemed mildly irked, half-glaring at the vehicle and the spot where Cage had vanished. Whenever she encountered the smoking twit again, she would have a few choice and interrogative words with him. Preferably with a bit of throwing him against things. That might help her alleviate some of her current frustration and anger.

As Amber promised, new transport arrived quickly, although it was less glamorous than the sleek transport vehicle that had brought them to the Relations Office. Although it was a hovering vehicle, it was a dingy-looking thing, with dulled yellow and black-checker paint, a cramped roof over the top, a dented front, and a phrase printed in obnoxiously large green letters on the side reading 'Zoomie-Boom Cabs'. It swooped down from above and came to park right next to the rental vehicle, muffled music playing through the windows. Amber perked up and trotted over to the driver's door while Yamira and Devon stood closely behind. The window rolled down, revealing the grubby driver behind the wheel, somewhat obscured by the dark lighting inside.

"Welcome to Zoomie-Boom Cabs," the driver said, speaking in a rather thick accent in a semi-bored and squeaky voice. "Where we give you the best boom with yer zoom. Where can I take-" Before he continued, he took a brief look at Yamira, and immediately went wide. "Blow me down! A Commissar, here?! Hold on a toss, let me just…" The driver fiddled a bit in his seat, then opened the car and stepped out onto the pavement. Yamira was immediately surprised to see what was behind the wheel. It looked human, at least from a view, but he stood barely taller than the pony. His nose was far too large, two pronounced front teeth peaked out between his thin lips, thick brown hair accumulated over the sides of his feet, and his feet were massive with hooked claw-like toes. It had been a while, but Yamira knew enough to instantly spot a Ratling when she saw one. Though this one lacked the military camo of the sniper brigades she once commanded with the Cadians a few years back, instead dressed in a dirty sleeveless vest and thick baggy pants, she did notice that the Ratling's right hand ended at a stump at the wrist, with a simplistic three-pronged metal claw in its place. The Ratling proudly saluted Yamira, a bold smile on his ratty face. "An absolute honor to meet a Commissar face-to-face."

Yamira smiled and stood at her own rapt attention, looking down at the diminutive abhuman. "Ah, proper recognition," she said. "Good to have that after being here for far longer than I wished. I take it you've served?"

"Yes ma'am!" the Ratling said. "Lieutenant Major Ruttiger, Salvar Sniper Brigade. Or was until I lost me trigger finger to some longshanks on Validiya." He waggled his hooked hand with a resentful sneer. "So they frakkin' discharged me! Can ya believe it?"

"I most certainly cannot," Yamira said, shaking her head. "You seem to still have the fighting spirit of the Emperor in you, Lt. Major." Ruttiger beamed widely, showing off his mouth full of crooked, rotted teeth.

"That's what I've been sayin'!" he exclaimed. "But now I'm jus' a down-on-me-luck cabbie driver, workin' 'til me spark gives out. But I'm keepin' in good spirits!" He tapped his chest again. "Busy body means busy mind, so they say!" Yamira chuckled and stood upright, glancing over to Amber, who seemed to be patiently waiting for her turn to speak. Once she realized she was being acknowledged, she perked up and trotted up.

"Oh, yes, excuse me." Amber said. "We were looking to get a ride to the food plaza on Restaurant Row, can we please get a lift there?"

"Ah, say no more, say no more." Ruttiger said, patting the side of his vehicle. "I can get ya there faster than a lasfire going through a gretchin's head at twenty paces. An' for the lovely Lady Commissar, I'll do this one for free." Amber blinked in surprise. "So hop on in the back, we get goin' now, we can miss the rush hour."

"Well thank you, Mr. Ruttiger!" Amber cheerily said. She opened the cab passenger door and crawled inside, while Ruttiger himself hopped back into his seat, turning his music down low with a smile on his ratty face. Yamira moved to take her own seat, but stopped when she realized that Devon had been making somewhat of a face the whole time.

"Come along, Captain," Yamira said. "We might as well indulge this food offer, especially if you're so insistent on neglecting the paste." Devon winced and walked over to the open cab door. He glanced inside, sniffed, and immediately recoiled.

"I'm not too cheeky on the idea of sharing a confined space with a Ratling, Yamira," he said. Yamira rolled her eye and practically pushed Devon into the seat.

"If you're so bothered by his smell, wear your gas mask," she said. Devon grumbled and pulled his mask over his face, sealing it against his skin with a compressed hiss. "Besides," she muttered, glancing up at the towering building of the Relations Office. "I'll take the company of a smelly abhuman over more exposure to Xenos any day."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"So… this is Merodi food?" Devon said, picking at a plate of some mess of squiggly, dough-ey things adorned in a red paste and decorated in tiny leaves. He had been jabbing his fork at the thing on his plate for several minutes since sitting down at the table.

"Well, it's food from Equis Vitis, called spaghetti," Amber explained, pushing a round roll of bread across her plate with a hoof. "It's from a country called Bitaly, which apparently has a lot of parallels in most Earths." She pushed the plate down and popped the roll into the air, biting a piece of it just as it came down. "Iff rully goof." Devon stared apprehensively at the 'spaghetti' and continued cautiously poking it with his utensil. Yamira watched the exchange between hardened Guardsman and foreign food with her usual poise, silently praising the Captain for following protocol and remaining properly suspicious.

The restaurant that Amber had Ruttiger drop them off at was a more publicly recognized place than whatever Cage had been prompting before he vanished into an apparent portal of smoke. The pony had called it 'a biz-cas fancy-fun dining place', which left both Yamira and Devon perplexed. Even when arriving at a place that had the apparent ego to be named the 'Pasta Palace', the questions just kept piling up. Not only was it not a castle befitting the name of Palace, but rather a one-story building with the facade of a castle, with painted white bricks on the exterior and a plaster crown over the entrance. The metal table they had been seated at was on the outside patio, by request of the pony staff who "politely" requested that two heavily armed diplomats and their flesh-adorned automaton do so to avoid potentially disturbing the other customers.

Devon had the sensible idea to tell the staff where they could shove their attitudes, but Amber had de-escalated things with profuse apologies and an offer to pay for the broken window.

Yamira drummed her fingers on the tabletop, shifting her gaze between Bell, standing idly by as it beeped and hummed its usual synthetic tunes, and Devon, still unsure whether or not his offered meal was indeed something edible. Amber had already received her order of a bowl of leaves and small vegetables, a salad she called it, while Yamira had yet to receive hers. She had naturally objected to receiving food, insisting on utilizing her military rations for their intended purpose, but the yellow pony was nothing if not persistent.

"How do I get this to frakking work?" Devon grumbled. He had been struggling with his food, spearing the squiggly things with his fork only for them to break apart and spatter on his place. The Armageddonite was getting frustrated, a rare look Yamira saw on the usually lax and aloof Guardsman. He scooped under the mess with his fork, in an effort to shovel it into his mouth, only for it to limply slide off and back onto the plate. He growled and stabbed his fork into the table, making little more than a dent. "FRAK! Might as well use my hands, I'm starving at this point!"

"Table manners, please!" Amber urged. "Did they not teach you how to use utensils growing up?"

"Growing up, I had to learn how to find radioactive lakes for drinking water and how to take the head off a scrounger thirty clicks away for supper," Devon replied. "Though I suppose you lot would probably just call them 'really frakking big rats'." Amber made a face and recoiled from her plate.

"You've eaten rats?" Amber asked. "That's absolutely disgusting."

Devon shrugged. "I've had worse." The exchange subsided as Cage again attempted to stab at the plate, only to break it apart even further. He growled and slammed his hands onto the table. "Emperor's drawers, this food will be the end of me yet!"

"Here, let me show ya how it's done, Cap." All heads turned abruptly in surprise at a spontaneous arrival of their prior escort currently using Devon's fork to twirl up the spaghetti like a rotating cog. Cage seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, smoke trailing off his body and the four cigarettes currently alight in his mouth. He slowly wound up the noodles around the prongs of the fork, holding them aloft in a spool with a smirk on his face. "Voila, how to teach military dudes how to eat spaghetti." Cage then proceeded to stick the fork in his mouth with a very satisfied grin on his face. It took him the second bite from Devon's plate to realize that Yamira was giving a very irate glare. "What?" Yamira grabbed Cage's collar and yanked him over the table, causing the cutlery to rattle and the smoker to drop his fork.

"Talk, witch-man," Yamira growled. Cage just pointed to himself for affirmation, Yamira responded by shaking him about. "How did you bend reality to your whims with a mere cloud of smoke?"

"... Oh, the portal thing I did for the bail?" Cage asked. "Right, my bad. I saw an old co-worker from a thing back in Earth Stand and panicked. But it's all good." He raised both his hands and smiled. "The car did not get stolen."

"I said _how_, you blathering fool," Yamira snarled, shaking him again. "Not why." Cage glanced over at Amber, who seemed uncertain how to proceed without upsetting anyone further, and then to Devon, who was currently attempting to mimic Cage's original spaghetti magic.

"Oh, I get it," Cage slowly nodded. "You don't know about the deal with people from my universe. Ambs, did you get pizza-face, Cap and Tau Lady - still working on the name - the Guidebooks?" Amber opened her mouth to give her answer, then closed it with the shrinking of her pupils. Her head dropped onto the table with a thunk, and Cage just shook his head. "Right. If you let go of me, I can give some kind of explanation." Yamira huffed and released her grip, sending Cage stumbling back a bit.

"Then explain," Yamira ordered. "And stop giving me ridiculous nicknames."

"Explain only, got it." Cage said, lighting himself another cigarette. "Okay, so here's the deal: Earth Stand, the universe I came from, has this weird phenomenon where people get magic ghost spirits that are manifestations of a person's will, or some complicated crap I don't know the specifics of." He spat a spent cigarette into an ashtray, leaving three of four. "These magic ghost spirit thingies are called Stands, and they give people like me all kinds of cool powers and crap. Mine gives me smoke-based powers." He paused to take a drag, then blew a cloud overhead. "Oh, and you can't see them unless you have one. Make sense, Commissar Crispy?"

Yamira shook her head and made a face. "Not in the slightest." Yamira bluntly said. "Magical ghost spirits?" She scoffed and sat back down in her chair. "Sounds too much like daemonic influence and possession." Cage just shrugged and sat down in the other vacant chair next to Amber. The pony's head was still firmly planted on the table. "Perfect. First xenos, then humans who sympathise with xenos, then bloody Dark Eldar ships flying freely without being shot down, now heretics allowing themselves to be influenced by the wiles of daemons. Almost laughable how backwards this whole society is. Wouldn't you agree, Captain?" No response. "Captain?" Again, no response. "CAPTAIN!" Yamira glared towards Devon, who had finally mastered the art of spaghetti spooling and was now halfway through his meal, with several strands still hanging from his lips. He looked up, eyes wide, uncertain of why he was in the spotlight.

"... This food is the best I have eaten since I graduated the schola." Devon muttered through a mouthful. Yamira groaned and turned away from the table, cupping her cheek in her gloved hand. The sparkling glamour of Merodi Universalis had blinded him, but Yamira could still see the repugnantness of these outsiders and their bewitching wiles. They were worse than the Water Caste and their tongues of silver, at least _they_ were blatant about their brazen beliefs in the so-called 'Greater Good'. Yamira saw the Merodi as despicable nobles in the Hive Spires, ones who would use the affairs of others to advance their station while pretending to offer themselves as confidants and allies, all while looking for somewhere to slide in the knife. They would not get the opportunity to put that knife into the Imperium, not while she still proudly bore the golden aquilla on her breast.

While she half-heartedly gazed out onto the streets across from the restaurant, she took notice of the things around her. An astute lesson she learned quickly under the command of the Astra Militarum was to oversee every battlefield with utmost scrutiny and precision. Leave no place unseen, you never know what can be immediately converted into a barricade for a firefight or an open area that can be made into the perfect gunner's nest. She found herself staring at a bench right across the way, which seemed to be occupied by two suited men, one who was not too tall and one who was not too short. Yamira wasn't sure as to why, but the two men seemed to be interesting to her. Possibly because they were a better distraction than the apparent conversation that Cage, Amber and Devon were having about food or some such nonsense. Yamira simply watched the two men and their bench, unaware that they seemed to be watching back.

The sound of synthetic horns blaring immediately disrupted her focus, glancing around rapidly from the source of the noise. By the time she looked back at the bench, the two men seemed to have already left. A pity. It seemed that she wasn't the only one to take note of the obnoxious horns, as both Cage and, surprisingly, Amber, moaned in exasperation.

"Ugh, he's back…" Cage grumbled, tossing his spent cigarettes away.

"So my day _can_ go from bad to worse…." Amber whined, massaging her temples with her hooves.

Devon swallowed the last of his spaghetti with a slurp, slapping a red streak of sauce on his chin. "Who's back?" he asked. "Some big shot with you people?" The horns continued blaring a raucous tune, an irksome sound that seemed to intentionally grate on the ears and drive those who dared listen into discomfort, a chorus played on hollowed-out bones and poorly-wrought metal arranged in all the wrong ways. It felt familiar to Yamira. Too familiar.

"Worse, I think he's one of yours." Cage muttered. "I don't mean Imperium, I mean one of those aliens that's around here." The horns sounded again, playing their ear-bleeding shrieks loud as can be. Ponies, humans and other denizens walking the street seemed to share their disdain for the music, pained looks on their faces as they hurried along on their walks and actively got out of the way. From the far end of the street, Yamira saw the source, a procession of people making their way along. It was some semblance of a parade, with humans playing long horn instruments that were affixed to their faces by eyeless masks, masked ponies tossing hooffulls of flower petals onto the ground, and more humans in robes with large metal helmets that concealed all but their mouths and ears, all chanting and singing a single mantra.

"_Come, make way, oh do make way!_" They sang. "_Zasraman the Great has come today!"_ They repeated their mantra with poor timing and rhythm. Following behind them were a team of multi-armed creatures, rolling a red carpet along the street and quickly rolling it back up when the end came. Yamira squinted a bit to see just what was walking on the carpet, and immediately felt her stomach lurch. A tall, gangly figure in gaudy clothing made from far too many colors in a myriad of checkers and stripes that practically burned the eyes on a casual glance. It wore pointed yellow boots that curled into a spiral, rolling out like a child's party blower with every step on the ground, with tassels of purple and yellow fabric hanging from its gloved wrists trailing on the ground before sloping back into its back. What caught Yamira's eye most was not the outfit, or the way that it walked to mimic some form of acrobatic dance, but the mask. The abhorrent smiling mask of red and silver, with teeth like needles that arched all the way up to the brow like a demented crescent moon, a pointed nose that protruded straight like an arrow, and ears, long ears like knives plastered on the side of its head. It was a repugnant creature that dared mimic the facsimile of human gait, worse than the Tau, the ponies, or the xenos sympathizing humans.

"Is that a bloody Eldar?" Devon asked, rolling his head to the side.

"Worse," Yamira said, digging her fingers into the table. "A Harlequin." Amber, Cage and Devon all turned to Yamira. Her face had gone cold and rigid, but her eye burned with an inferno of hatred unlike any other. "What is it doing in this City, so close to Holy Terra?"

"An Expedition team encountered his Troupe while exploring the Webway," Amber said, pulling herself up from her chair. "In exchange for safe passage and protection from less-than-friendlies, they asked for amnesty and that they gain a chance at joining the Merodi." Amber sighed and looked away from the precession. "And they've been here ever since."

"And _that fop_ has been a collective pain in everyone's ass," Cage moaned. The procession seemed to be slowing down, the music dying out, the petal tossers ceasing their throws, and the carpet rollers ending their duties. Unfortunately, this was right in front of the Pasta Palace. "Ah shit. Uh, Commissar? I'd suggest… not doing anything right now." Yamira's world was already red the instant the Harlequin stepped off the carpet and onto the sidewalk. Before she could leap off her chair, draw her sword, and chop the Xenos into tiny little flamboyant pieces, something held her back. Not a metaphysical something held on by emotional and mental obligations, but a physical something was holding onto her shoulders and keeping her in place. She couldn't see what, but she could feel the pressure of human hands pressing down on her and keeping her firmly glued to her seat as the Harlequin drew ever nearer.

Amber pleaded to some unknown deity that the Harlequin would not approach them, but as Yamira was wont to learn, prayers often go unheeded and are often ignored. Unless they are prayers to the God-Emperor of Mankind, which are the _only_ prayers that are even worthy of being spoken. The Harlequin raised his pointed hands over his head and danced his way over to the gathered tables, stepping one foot in front of the other.

"Come, make way, oh do make way!" The Harlequin proclaimed. The warbling sound of its voice made Yamira cringe to her very core, the distorted facsimile of the human tongue making her own curl up in disgust. "Zasraman the Great has come today!" He stopped before the table, one foot raised overhead as it slowly curled back up, staring at the table. "What's this, what do we have here?" He brought his foot down with a clack, planting his hands on his slender hips. "New visitors from the _mon'keigh_, I fear?"

"It speaks in rhyme," Yamira muttered, unable to take her eyes off of the Eldar's horrendous outfit. It was like something had consumed a rainbow and vomited all over his clothes. "Of all the bloody luck."

"Is there something wrong with the way I speak?" Zasraman asked, placing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Well, I expect nothing less from the Imperium's dogs, I think."

"What the frakk did you call us, you…" Devon growled, starting to rise from his chair. Immediately a hoof was jammed into his mouth and he sat back down, with Amber putting on a massive smile that was fake as it was clearly straining on the pony's face.

"Hello again, Zasraman," she said. Devon gave off a few muffled protests, but Amber held him in place. Quite strong for such a little pony. "I see you've returned from one of your…" she cleared her throat. "Excursions?"

"Ah, yes, and what a wonderful trip it was, Ms. Dust," Zasraman clapped his hands and bowed. Yamira had forgotten how tall Eldar were, often standing at near equals in height with the Astartes, if not shorter. It did not help that Yamira felt the Harlequin staring down his long nose at her the entire time. "Daten City was a dominion of such misery and travesty, if I do say so, I must."

"So you felt right at home then, Clownie?" Cage asked, puffing two new lit cigarettes. "Shame you decided to come back." Zasraman tilted his masked head to the side and shuffled over to Cage's side, barely shifting his feet as he kept himself bowed a full length.

"And miss more darling shows with an audience so delightful?" Zasraman said, hissing through the faux teeth on his mask. "Why Cage, sincerely slothful Cage," in a blur of motion, one of the cigarettes was gone from Cage's lips, and betwixt Zasraman's pointed fingers. "Why would I ever consider an aspect so frightful?" Yamira was surprised to see Cage react so swiftly to the slight, snatching his sunglasses off his face and immediately glaring down the Harlequin, despite the clear two-foot height difference.

"Nobody touches my smokes," he growled. Zasraman stared at Cage with unblinking eyes, the cigarette still smoldering between his fingers. A faint snap followed, and two halves fell to the floor.

"Oops." The weights immediately left Yamira's shoulders as Cage raised his fists and smoke congealed around him, and Zasraman's hand went to one of two wicked swords on his hip. Amber's eyes went wide as Devon vigorously pumped his hands in excitement. Yamira wanted to join the Captain in revelry, but again, she felt restrained.

"YOU'RE DEAD, BOZO! **CIGARETTE-**"

"Mr. Cage Jameson." Yamira spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension like a bullet. She slowly stood from her seat, arms crossed behind her back, while Cage and Zasraman were frozen in mid-combat prep. All eyes had fallen upon her, even the pedestrians and the restaurant staff watched the Commissar stare down the smoking Stand User and the devilish Eldar. "Were you and Amber Dust not just informing me that this Harlequin's troupe was granted amnesty for some assistance prior to your society?" Amber and Cage traded gazes before returning to Yamira. "As satisfying ast it would be to see you attempt to pummel this Xenos for insulting your honor, jeopardizing such a clear alliance would look bad on your record, would it not?"

"Well, uh…" Cage's eyes darted around, dull brown irises flittering to look at something other than Zasraman or the half-faced Commissar. He dropped his fists and stepped back, the smoke around him drifting off into nothingness. "Fine, whatever. I got plenty more smokes anyway." He emptied an entire carton into his hand and walked off elsewhere to prove his point.

Zasraman laughed, a weird sound like some sort of chittering beast. "Kweah hah hah hah hah! Such a sight has left me feeling so gay and jovial!" he pantomimed wiping a tear from his false eye. "To think that one of the Imperium's leading troopers could be so cordial. I must know the why and how such a vicious primitive form oft so defiant," He thumbed the base of his pointed masked chin. "To render this half-faced she-human so compliant?"

"Don't take my blase demeanor as cordiality, Xenos," Yamira replied curtly, glaring Zasraman down. Her dead eye rolled a bit as she craned her head up to look at the garishly dressed alien. "I hold more hatred for your kind than any in this outsider's paradise. Were it not for the laws that bind me, and to the same extent, you, I would personally see you burned for the witch-xenos you are and parade your still-burning carcass through the streets of my home world for all to see and relish." Zasraman stared at Yamira, unmoving and unblinking. Not that she could tell, what with that horrendous smiling mask concealing no doubt an equally disgusting face underneath.

"... You seem familiar, like a face, or in this case half, is one of yore." Zasraman said, stroking his chin. "Tell me, _mon'keigh_, have we met before?" Yamira furrowed her brow and grit her teeth, shown clearly through the holes in her cheek. Before she had a chance to retort, two very panicked female voices came from down the street, shouting Zasraman's name. Barrelling along, two women with obscenely bright red skin ran up to the table, panting and heaving. Both were dressed in matching tan pantsuits and well-kept black shoes, and had piercing yellow eyes. One had a mess of wild green hair that trailed down to her back, while the other had blue hair tied off in a ponytail and sporting sharp spectacles.

"There you are," The blue-haired woman panted. "Zasraman, PLEASE stop running off like that!"

"This is getting a tad bit irksome, sir." The green-haired woman added. "You're running my sister and I ragged!" Zasraman rolled his hips about and leaned his head back. A dramatic sigh escaped through his mask as he lurched forward.

"I love you darling, dear sisters, even if you must continuously kill my mood." Zasraman said. "But, very well." He turned back to the table and gave a flourishing bow. "Farewell, _mon'keigh_ and pony! Do enjoy your food!" The Harlequin rapidly danced off, leaving the stunned precession and the two red-skinned women behind. They both sighed while the one with glasses tossed a handful of credits onto the table with the casualness of throwing trash aside.

"Here, to pay for your cigarettes and the meal," she said. "Come, Scanty, we'd best follow our ward before he adds to the already growing pile of paperwork." The other woman nodded, running her fingers through her green hair.

"Yes, of course, dear Kneesocks." Scanty said. "Although, after this one is finished, we will need a new support leg for Fastner's desk." The two siblings walked off, talking amongst themselves, while the procession of masked men and ponies followed meekly behind. It was a solid five minutes before anyone at the table decided to speak up.

"... Okay, who the frakk were _those two_?" Devon asked, pointing to where the two red women once stood.

"Scanty and Kneesocks Daemon, two semi-prominent members of Relations." Amber explained. "They're businesswomen from Earth Datenshi, a world prominent in the supernatural and faithful magic. I've spoken to them rarely, but they're… interesting sisters." Yamira rubbed her undamaged side with an exasperated sigh.

"Their surnames are _Daemon_?" she said. She sighed once more into her palm. "I need to rest, this day has been trying enough." Amber nodded and collected the scraps of money on the table to give to the restaurant, leaving Devon, Yamira, and Bell at the table alone. Devon stood up from his chair and sat down in the vacant one next to the Commissar.

"That was… a surprising way you handled that situation, Lady Commissar." Devon said, giving a faint smile. "I would have just taken my lasgun and blown a hole through that Xenos' chest just for stepping close, if I had it with me."

"I would have too, and I would have been glad to do it." Yamira confessed. "After what the Eldar did to my homeworld, my blade would find its way through the heart of every one of their repugnant race and I would eat them off the still-sizzling metal like a skewer." Devon scooted back in his seat, images in his mind of Yamira standing over Zasraman's corpse, bleeding profusely with pieces of his alien heart wedged between her teeth, making his stomach churn.

"Delightful notions, my Lady," Devon said, trying to get the greenness of his face to fade away. "Hold on, I don't think you've ever mentioned your homeworld before." Yamira shot her gaze to the ground, her good eye shut tightly. "Touchy subject, hmm? Permit me a guess?" Yamira said nothing. "Suppose not. T'ain't my place to ask it, anyway. I'm just a Guardsman along for the ride."

"Piamen." Yamira said, gaze still averted. "My homeworld is Piamen. That's all I will say." Yamira stood up and adjusted the brim of her hat. "Jameson and Dust will be returning momentarily. Hopefully there will be no more stops to prevent proper rest." As Yamira walked off, Devon was left with little more than questions and an agape mouth. Yamira stared at the vacant bench across the way, trying to recall a vague memory of something that caught her attention earlier, and also desperately trying to forget even mentioning Piamen.

'_Attachment to such a past is folly,_' she thought. '_Piamen has passed, focus on the now, Yamira. Even if the now surrounds you with the enemy.'_

* * *

"301, 302… oh, 303! Here we are!" Amber chipperly said, pressing her hoof on the door frame. It was identical as all the other blue and black doorways that lined the equally dull blue hallway that she, the Commissar, and her servitor companion had walked down for a while now, with the Captain having long been taken into Cage's custody to find his own residency. After having their meal at the restaurant (which Yamira never even received in the commotion, but opted to remain silent on the matter, while her stomach protested in silence), Cage had driven them to the newly-constructed residential complex, a massive dome nearly the size of an Upper Hive, yet having nowhere near as much majesty. Hundreds of floors with thousands of rooms for visiting dignitaries from across the multiverse, and they simply named it the "Diplomat Dome". Surprising that a nigh powerful society from beyond the boundaries of the Warp itself naming itself in a High Gothic phrase would be lacking in creativity.

Amber tapped her hoof on a glossy black pad on the door's left side. "This is a bio-lock scanner," Amber explained. "I'm no big-brain sciencey type, but they've told me that you basically need to place your left hand flat on the screen, and then it takes a photograph of your hoof - wait, no, fingerprints. You don't have hooves, I think." Yamira refrained from rolling her eye, lest it roll straight out of its socket. "Anyway, once you do that, your hand will be a key to this lock and you can let yourself in and out whenever you please!" She turned up to Yamira, eyes sparkling and smile wide. "Go on, give it a shot!" Yamira stared at the black slab against the door frame, her own half-ghastly reflection staring back with disinterest.

"Use my left hand, correct?" Yamira asked. Amber nodded, gesturing towards the pad with her head. "If you so insist." Yamira held up her left hand and slowly began to remove the glove, hiding any traces of pain from the sensitive plucking of thread against her skin. It was worth it in the end to see the look of shock on Amber's face as she saw the meaty, boney mess that was underneath. Like Yamira's own face, the extent of her apparent burns was extreme, exposing flesh, nerve, sinew and bone in a single cadaverous mess. She slowly reached her hand towards the black pad, the cool pricking of artificial breeze of the building making even the lightest twitch of her vulnerable fingers send small jolts of pain up her arm. Just as the tip of bone on her forefinger was about to touch the pad, Amber wildly flailed her hooves and interjected.

"I, uh, actually think that maybe using your _right_ hand would be better!" The pony rapidly said. A ghost of a smile crossed Yamira's face as she deftly slipped her glove back on. With far less flair with her left, she removed the glove on her right hand, exposing her soft white skin, undamaged by war and strife. Yamira placed her hand flat on the black pad, surprisingly warm to the touch compared to most cold machinery she had been exposed to. The pad hummed a blue glow for a few seconds, then turned a bright green. The door slid open into a single room complex, about as large as her usual quarters onboard the _Penitent Oath_, only with an iron-framed bed in lieu of a hammock, a vanity not emblazoned in gold, the Merodi's mark on the back wall as opposed to the Imperial Aquila, and private indoor plumbing.

Yamira stepped inside, with Bell immediately following behind her. The Servitor found an unoccupied corner of the room and plopped itself down on the ground, an escaping hiss from its exhaust indicated a rest state. It was minimalistic, but the quarters would serve her well for the duration of her stay. She ran her fingers over the sheets of the bed, stark white and undisturbed, before settling her gaze back on the pony in the doorway, still maintaining her political smile.

"This will serve me adequately," she said. She walked back to the doorway, finding a mirroring black pad on the opposite side of the door frame. "As have your services. I'll be retiring now." She moved to press her hand to the pad, but Amber interrupted.

"Whew, that's a relief!" Amber said, wiping her brow with her hoof. "I was worried you hated me for how the day went, what with that first reception on your ship, that stop at the Tau Outpost for Ambassador Windmind, the drive to the Relations Office, that meeting with Zasraman, but I'm glad it all turned out well in the end!"

"Of course," Yamira flatly said. She placed her hand on the pad, and the door immediately slid shut in Amber's face.

"Well, uh, okay!" Amber's muffled voice came from the other side. "I'll come by in the morning to give you and Cage a proper tour of Celestia City! It was… really nice meeting you!" Yamira stood by the doorway for five minutes, waiting to hear if the pony was still there. Satisfied at no further intrusions, Yamira sighed and removed her hat from her head, allowing a cascade of finely cut blonde hair to fall upon her shoulders. She tossed her hat onto the bed and sat down on a vacant chair.

She looked over to Bell and spoke to the Servitor in High Gothic. "Bell, commence new entry in personal data-logs," she said. Bell's eyes lit up as a roll of parchment fed through the slots on its chassis, auto-quills primed and ready for recording.

"_COMPLIANCE?"_ it shrieked in its mechanical voice. Yamira ran her bare hand through her hair, working a few potential knots out of it before they could become troublesome.

"By the compliance of Lady Commissar Yamira Kalov, of the Commissariat of the Astra Militarum, by the glory of the Imperium of Man and the will of the God Emperor of Mankind." Bell beeped and planted the quill on the parchment.

"_COMPLIANCE ACCEPTED, COMMENCE ORATION._" Yamira slowly removed her boots, clearing her throat in commencement of her nightly rituals.

"My newly assigned duties as diplomat representing the Astra Militarum and the Imperium of Man for the multiversal society, Merodi Universalis, have commenced. As expected, it is a backwards society that allows for heretics, mutants and xenos to roam freely, including Tau and accursed Eldar. In my meeting with two of the leaders of the Merodi, I was wrongfully assaulted by one Evening Sparkle for demanding satisfaction for having an alien setting foot on Holy Terra, and accosted by General Jack O'Neill in the process. This may be one of my greatest challenges yet, but I will not let the Commissariat down. The Emperor watches over me and these tribulations. As usual, I will conclude this oration with a silent prayer to the God-Emperor of Mankind, and rest for the remainder of the day. End entry."

"_ORATION CONCLUDED._" Bell snipped off the final portion of the parchment with its pincers and began its filing. Yamira stood from the bed and knelt down on the floor, clasping both her hands tightly around an aquilla necklace dangling from her neck. Her eye closed and her lips moved to utter silent words of faith to the Emperor. This was the most peaceful she ever felt in her day-to-day, where she could feel her spirit transcend her mortal form and be with the Emperor in the closest way she could, save for setting foot on Holy Terra itself. Though that may be a dream unattainable within her lifetime, Yamira was content at it being just this.

That contentment was broken immediately by a knocking on her door. Yamira sighed and stood up from her kneeling. She walked over to the door and pressed her hand on the pad, opening it and revealing the last person she wanted to see for the remainder of the day.

"Commissar Kalov!" cheered Ambassador Windmind. The Water Caste Tau female was standing in Yamira's doorway, smiling just as sweetly as when she last saw her and making Yamira sick just by looking. "I did not know that we were neighbors! Joy of joys, this presents so many opportunities for bonding between our empires and ourselves! I'll look forward to seeing you every day as we go about representing ourselves for the sake of multiversal unity and the Greater Good!" Yamira promptly closed the door in Windmind's face and went back onto the bed, retrieving a can of nutrient paste from the confines of her jacket. She popped the lid off, dug two fingers into the grey goop inside, and started shoveling it into her mouth. Yamira Kalov had never considered herself a stress-eater, but now seemed an apt time to start.


End file.
